When He came home, she was sitting on the porch wearing a short pleated navy skirt and long-sleeved cotton oxford blouse, white socks and sneakers. Her lustrous sable mane framed soft features; parted in the middle, its long dark tresses fell almost to her knees as she leaned forward, elbows propped on her knees, fingers laced under her chin. Watching Him approach up the sidewalk, she straightened her back and remained seated, folding hands in her lap dutifully, blue eyes sparkling beneath curled, black lashes.
"How is my nymphe today?" He said, caressing her rosy cheeks with the back of His hand. She kept perfectly still, refraining from pressing into His comforting palm, though she wanted to pounce up like a kitten and jump into His arms.
"I waited for You, Sir," she whispered, omitting what she was thinking 'just as You said.' She felt knees weaken, and was glad He hadn't asked her to stand. He towered over her, gazing down affectionately, lustfully. She was an obedient girl, but there was more to satisfying His needs than abiding orders – though her sincerity to comply was recognized and commendable.
"Have you completed your chores?" His dark eyes narrowed, fingers lightly traced her little mouth, then encircled her throat possessively. 'Say no,' He thought, contemplating the consequences that would follow such a response. Reflecting, for a moment, about administering an appropriate punishment to His beautiful creature, His cock thickened, lengthened...
Suddenly he noticed something awry with her clothing. Looking more closely, He focused on an open middle button where cleavage peeked through the gap in her white blouse. Visualizing her full womanly breasts and tender nipples made Him even more ravenous, picturing his teeth sinking into sweet flesh.
Centering His attention back to the opening, He suddenly slipped one hand into the blouse and sliced off all the rest of the buttons in obvious displeasure. She gasped and froze, stunned by the alarming ripping sound, but mostly dismayed at disappointing her Master. Swallowing hard, she kept hands clenched tightly, the ends of her fingers turning white, waiting for Him to speak, uncertain of her fate.
"My nymphe, did you forget to dress properly today?" His tone was ominous, wicked. She was appalled at failing to check her buttons – meeting His expectation was her daily assignment, to please Him, pleasure His senses. She was rewarded in return, with His generous affection and attentiveness. Her heart beat rapidly as she considered an appropriate response. For what seemed a very long time, she sat completely still, and silent.
"Cat got your little tongue, my pet?" His right hand firmly cupped her jaw, prying it open and peering inside as if to check her lingual muscles. "Perhaps you should demonstrate the proper use for your tongue, little girl, so that I may determine its usefulness." He placed one finger inside her lips, and she closed them, looking directly into His intimidating gaze. Deliberately, she slowly suckled, warm saliva coating His long digit as He pushed in... pulled out... pushed in... all the way until His hand held her jaw. She sucked, swirling her tongue as if His finger were both His cock, and candy. Her delicious display of oral pleasure caused His cock to throb eagerly, anxious to feel the delicate warmth of her wet mouth.
But time would come for that. Later.
"Stand and take off the blouse," He commanded. She rose like a dainty ballerina to her feet, balanced on the concrete bottom step, and let the button-less blouse fall to the white wood slats of the porch. Bra-less, her heavy breasts pointed downward toward her navel, large brown-pink areolas and tiny red tips glistening in the evening sunset. She waited for his next order, hands clasped behind her back.
How lovely she was, standing topless on the porch, looking like a girl barren. There was a mower somewhere behind Him, and He imagined who might see her like this: neighbors and passers-by who would see the beautiful ageless creature half-naked before Him. He glanced around for obvious voyeurs or random tourists; no humans in sight, gratefully. It was not in His nature to humiliate her too severely, yet an intense yearning persisted in His loins. Primal instinct and impulsive passion prompted Him to roughly twist her taut nipples, hard and deliberate between thumb and forefingers.
"We are going to take a pleasant evening walk in the park, delphi. Walk ahead so that I can fully enjoy your promenade." His voice was husky, intense, smoldering. He had not anticipated this homecoming, but it was certainly rousing His fire.
She wished to protest that she didn't have on a blouse, as if He were not aware that she was suddenly exposed from the waist up. She would not dare make such request; instead, her heart raced in anticipation. She stood there and instinctively crossed her arms in a weak attempt to conceal her naked breasts. He stopped her in mid-pose and solemnly gripped her wrists. "Don't," He warned. "Stroll with me in the appropriate posture, my errant little nymphe."
His authoritative whisper was quite effective, and she responded promptly. Eyes lowered, she submitted respectfully, drawing in the soft pillow of her belly, elbows bent slightly so that arms angled around her yielding waist, hands joined in silent promise at the small of her back.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Her heart pounded with such thunder, lightening seemed to bolt right through her as they approached the narrow dirt nature trail. He walked directly behind, clasping her wrists in one hand – long fingers from the other raked up and down her spine, mapping red streaks, denoting His territory. Lust built and bellowed inside His jeans, blood poured into His swelling cock and balls, spurring His eagerness.
She felt moistness seep onto cotton panties as she walked, longing for Him, imagining how He would explore her silky, sensitive cave. Cool evening air breezed in the shadowy forest, stirring leaves and sending small creatures scurrying for night cover. An owl screeched goodnight as the red sun disappeared beyond evergreens, night pulling up its velvety black blanket. Anticipation increased with every step. The sun was suddenly gone, dusk swallowed by darkness. Cool air brushed her naked torso until she shivered, tips of nipples rigid. His swift tug on her long hair halted her march.
"Stop, here." His voice took her breath away; it was she heard, the precision of His tone, the quiet eloquence of His words pouring into her spirit... the intensity of His purpose, this is what made her stop – rather than the rough yank of her hair. He reached under the navy skirt, felt the wet panties, and grinned victoriously. "It appears that My little forest nymphet is soaked," He breathed against her throat, nipping at her delicate flesh. She trembled and almost lost balance, but He held her steady. "Do you trust Me, delphi?"
She nodded, speechless, bare flesh tingling in the damp chill settling on the leaf covered ground. She felt His eyes undressing her while His attentive hands explored freely about her curves, tracing lines and folds. She breathed evenly, controlled – but there was nothing controlled about how she was feeling at that moment. Inside, excitement filled her lungs, need suppressed her breath, desire suffocated her – His eyes, His scent, His walk, His hands, His posture, His gestures, His confidence, His wisdom, His patience, His character, His dominance. His voice.
