Bedroom Eyes 32

Stephanie, now blessed with the slave name scallop, stood naked with her feet apart, her hands on her head. She watched, because I’d allowed it, Maires, who was both her Mistress and her sister submissive, sucking her Master’s cock.

As that Master, it felt good being in Maires’s warm, wet and busy mouth, but I’d already come in both of them, more than once, in that long and eventful evening and night. My cock was not rising to the occasion. Finally, I took a handful of Maires’s hair, pulled her head up to mine and kissed her.

She straddled my thigh then, and rubbed her wet self on me. She was a horny slavegirl, stuck with an exhausted Master.

I smiled at her, and glanced at Stephanie, only my eyes moving, not my head. She caught that and nodded: “Yes, what about her?”, her look meant.

I said, “Don’t stop, Maires. You have my permission to come on my thigh whenever you’re ready.”

She closed her eyes and worked harder. “Thank you, Master.”

I looked at Stephanie. “Scallop.”

“Yes, Master?” There was hope in her voice: she was going to be included at last!

“I want you to go to the kitchen and make a two-egg omelette for Maires and me. With two pieces of toast. One plate, two sets of knives and forks. And two glasses of OJ. You are not allowed to have food or drink yourself. You’re not to sneak a drink or, I don’t know, a biscuit. Nothing for you.”

Her face became very serious. She thought that idea, especially the words “nothing for you”, was hot.”Yes, Master. May scallop leave the room?”

“You’ve been given an order, scallop. Try to use your brains. Hurry up!”

“Yes, Master.” Stephanie turned, hands still on her head, and opened the door, which was slightly ajar, with her foot. She left. Shortly I heard cupboard draws and the fridge opening and the start of food-assembly noises.

Maires looked at me, still undulating on my thigh. “Are you going to fuck Stephanie – I mean Scallop – again tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Is she going to be allowed to come?”

“No.”

She paused, then pressed against me harder. “God. She’ll feel that worse than the cane. Or the crop. Are you punishing her?”

“No.”

“You think this is what she wants. I couldn’t stand being ignored. You’re being cruel.”

“Thank you! She’s a different kind of submissive from you. You, you like surrendering, you like some carefully applied pain, and you like to serve.”

“Get all that in one package, and I’ll call him Master.”

“I’m very, very lucky and happy to have you, But she needs something different.”

“I can feel it. When I rode her and made her do me in the bathroom, I was playing. At least I still had the part of my mind that watches and makes sure everything’s safe. But she was a hundred per cent into it; she didn’t hold anything back. She really does want to be your possession. And mine too.”

Having said that she sped up. Her face took on an expression I knew: she was close to coming. I said, “This is a longer-term game, and I’ll need your help. But until tomorrow evening Stephanie is nothing, nothing to you or me except a useful slave. Then we’re going to take her really hard, and she’ll scream the house down when she comes.”

Maires grinned then. “I suppose she’s a lucky girl then, even if I’d go mental if you treated me like that. What do I do to help, Master?”

“You don’t touch her. No punishment, no pleasure, no affection. Keep your hands off her. But you can use her like a slightly useful, not at all sexy robot. If you’re reading, you tell her to come and turn the page for you; things like that. In the morning you’ll tell her to scrub the bathroom, from floor to ceiling.”

“Then I have to find something she did wrong? So I can punish her?”

“It doesn’t have to be fair. Just tell her it’s not good enough. Then cane her till she cries, and a bit more after that.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“Not fucking her after I punish her: that’s going to be hard. Scallop gets so yummy, just so turned on and confused and hot when she takes discipline. But then I’m the shallow slavegirl; she’s the deep one. After I’ve caned her I unleash her on the kitchen, right?”

“Yes. I’ll set her some tasks too. But she also has to spend some time just watching us have fun, without being allowed to join in. Then at seven we lovebomb her. Lots of love and fucks. And we can tell her the truth about how wonderful we think she is.”

Maires, still using my thigh as her sex toy, stared into my eyes, puzzled at first, but her expression slowly cleared. “Did you plan everything with me like that?”

“I had to get an idea of what you like first. But pretty much. Yes.”

“God.” Then she closed her eyes. Her pussy pressed hard on my leg, and she stopped moving. Her knees and feet were in the air. her hands clutched my shoulder while she lifted her face and upper body. She yowled into the air, then said, “god. Fuck. Thank you, Master.”

There was an oddly flat sound at the door, as if Stephanie was using an object to knock on the door. “Master? Mistress? May scallop enter the room?”

I said, as if I was angry, “You were told to bring us food, scallop. Can you do that without coming in?”

“Of course not, Master. Sorry, Master.”

“Stupid girl.”

The door opened, and scallop – I suppose I should call her that when she really isn’t being Stephanie – entered, with an omelette place, glasses, knives and forks on a tray. I bit back the urge to smile or tell her she was a good girl. “Put the tray on the bed, scallop.”

“Yes, Master.” She put the tray down and looked at me, hoping for praise. Or punishment. Both would be welcome.

“Get down on all fours, scallop. Hands and knees. Keep your back straight. Don’t move.”

Her eyes showed that she’d worked out that she was about to be our table. “Yes, Master.” She dropped to the floor, and presented her back as a slightly curved but, after adjustment, essentially horizontal surface.

Scallop’s bottom and legs were red, with stripes from cane and crop emerging from the generalised blotch left by her spankings. Some of the riding crop stripes Maires had applied to her legs while the two girls were playing horsey would probably bruise. But she was beautiful furniture.

Maires left the bed and picked up the tray. She set the dinner things out on scallop’s presented back. I nodded at her, and she sat herself cross-legged at scallop’s side, facing me.

She touched nothing, not food and not scallop. She said, “Dinner is served, Master.”

Bedroom Eyes 31

I entered Maires’s ass, easily. Maires was turned on and relaxed, and Stephanie was trying to show she was a good girl: told to lubricate Maires’s ass, she’d been diligent. I pressed forward, less abrupt than I sometimes am. I was in a gentle, loving mood.

Maires usually prefers me to be a Dom who makes things happen, and if some of them hurt, that’s more than OK. Steph also seemed to prefer me to be a hard man, not just in terms of my cock, but in my conduct towards her.

Being loving was self-indulgence, and too much would make them both unhappy.

So gentleness is not an unmixed blessing, but I felt loving towards them both. Slowly and reprehensibly gently I fucked Maires’s ass, my hands on hers as she grabbed a handful of the bottom sheet and some mattress protector, my cock hard but moving comfortably, I hoped comfortingly, in her rectum. 

Maires put her calves and ankles on mine as I buggered her, so I knew she was starting to feel the emotion behind this. I kissed her shoulderblade, and reached back and smacked the side of her ass, so that she could know all was well in the world. We moved together after that, Maires tightening her rectal muscles as I withdrew and relaxing as I pushed forward. I’d trained her to do that, long ago, with a lot of use of the riding crop and cane, but she knew what was right, now. We made love.

Stephanie watched us fucking. I’m sure she desired us both, and we made a stirring, hot, sight: a gentle, sensual buttfuck. But she was left out.

This was an odd thing. I wanted her to feel excluded and only a spectator to pleasure, because I believed she would discover that that sensation confirmed her deeply enslaved status, and therefore it’d be sexual for her.

That was my goal, but doing that sort of thing is always a risk. I desperately didn’t want to make her genuinely unhappy. I just wanted her to find an even deeper level of submission to fall into and occupy.

Ignoring Stephanie’s sexual wants was my way of giving her love. I don’t say that to make excuses: it was what I hoped I was doing, and that she’d take pleasure in. She’d showed herself to be more deeply submissive than Maires was, and I was trying to make her happy by putting her in a position that objectively seemed miserable. BDSM is about emotion, and it’s rarely simple.

Maires said, “Fuck, fuck me, fuck,” low and gutteral in her throat. In answer I smacked her again, harder, and sped up. Now we were fucking like a Master and slave, faster, and she began to squeal, while I made deeper, bear-growl noises.

Maires gasped, “Can I come, Master?”, and I shook my head, then remembered to say no.

Eventually, when I was ready to come in her, I said, “Yes, girl: now!” and she was wailing, beautiful and distraught, before I’d come.

Afterwards we were both out of breath, and Maires rolled onto her side, dislodging me. She was still puffing when she said, “I really want your cock, Master. Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

I said, “Jesus, Maires. I mean, yes, but I doubt if I’ll be up again for …”

Then I remembered Stephanie. I was being cruel to Stephanie, and I hoped she was enjoying that, even though I wasn’t touching her. I said, “Scallop.” That was her new slavename, given her no more than half an hour ago.

“Yes, Master?”

“Your Mistress wants to suck my cock. So clean my cock first, Scallop. Warm wet cloth. Fast!”

“Of course, Master!” She meant, I can do so much more than that: why don’t you tell me to? But she hurried to the bathroom, Maires and I both watching her cane-striped bottom as she moved.

Maires put her hand on Stephanie’s face when she returned, rubbing my cock with the toweling cloth in a way she hoped I might find worth my attention. When she’d finished the cleaning part of her task, though she showed no desire to stop, I knocked Maires’s hand away and said, “Back to your place, Scallop.”

She was disappointed, I knew, but she obeyed. “Yes, Master.” She stood alone, naked, legs parted, hands on head. Of course she was beautiful, and Maires and I were both in love with her. But Maires had begun to understand what I was doing. She ignored Stephanie, and lowered her head to take me in her mouth.

Two lovers made love. Stephanie, the third, stood apart, alone. Neglected, though she was the centre of my attention and perhaps Maires’s. I had to take it on faith that this was hot for her.

But her ordeal would have to last a while yet.

Bedroom Eyes 30

I said, “Good.” Stephanie was still breathing hard from my fingers in and then clasping her cunt. I hadn’t been trying to give her pleasure, but she was in a state where it would be impossible for her to take any contact as anything but sexual, and welcome. “There’s something else you need to learn.

“Yes, Master?”

Maires had shown me that Stephanie wanted to go much further and deeper into submission that Maires wanted, or I had expected from her. So it was my job to help her drop. “You’re not to call yourself Stephanie any more. Understand?”

She was puzzled. “Yes, Master?”

“I’m going to name you after your cunt. That’s the most interesting thing about you, little slave, so it can be the whole of your new identity.” I slipped a forefinger into that interesting organ and said, “Tighten. Hard as you can.”

“Yes, Master.”

She obeyed as best she could. I said, “Reasonable control. I’m sure we’ll teach you better in future. Nicely wet, as you’d expect from a worthless girl who needs whipping. But you’ll get the whipping you need often, won’t you?”

“Stephanie was pleased to be promised that. “Yes, Master.”

Often. I promise you. Your vaginal muscles are strong, though your Master and Mistress, we’ll both train them. So … we’ll call you -“

From the wall Maires said, “Permission to speak, Master?”

“Denied, Maires. If I want to hear from you I’ll ask you to speak. If I have to tell you that again, you’ll find your arse matching this slave’s.” Maires closed her eyes. Then she nodded.

This was to happen without her input, as so much of what she’;d done with Stephanie had happened without mine. I turned my attention back to Stephanie, and smacked her cunt hard with the tip of the crop. She gasped, but did not speak.

“Yes. Your name is Scallop. You’re named after your cunt. From now on, with Maires or me, you will call yourself only Scallop. Not ‘Stephanie’, obviously, but no ‘I’ or ‘me’ or ‘mine’ either. In your mind you are Scallop, when you’re with either of us. You use that name and no other, and no pronouns. Understood?”

“Yes, Master. Scallop understands.”

I wanted to smile, hug her and tell her she was good, and beautiful, and loved. But I knew that would break a spell, and this spell shouldn’t break: not for Stephanie.

“Good. You can be Stephanie in company. But if I hear any name but Scallop from you when we’re together, you’ll find that Maires has quite a gentle touch with the riding crop, compared to your Master.”

Wide-eyed, Stephanie nodded. “Yes Master. I am Scallop.” Then she looked shocked and put her hands to her mouth, hoping to take those words back. “Scallop is sorry, Master. Scallop meant, Scallop knows her name. It’s a good name, if Scallop is allowed to say so.”

I took her nipple and pinched it until pain showed in her face. “Maires?”

“Yes, Master?”

“Give Scallop six of the best. With the cane, please.”

Maires came away from the wall and took the cane from its place on the bed. She looked at Stephanie. “Scallop, you know what to do.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Stephanie turned so her back was to me, and bent over, grabbing her ankles.

“Sorry, Scallop, that won’t do. From now on, when you bend over for punishment you touch your toes.”

Stephanie had to grunt and bend her knees very slightly to adopt the required position. I said, “You’ll practice every day till you can do that properly.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Maires.” Maires applied the cane hard, and drew a loud squealing cry from Stephanie with every stroke. When the punishment was delivered I said, “Scallop, that wasn’t a punishment, it was just a warning. You don’t have the right to use your old name, or pronouns with us. Don’t get that wrong again, or it’ll be me who deals with it.”

“No, Master.” A tear, shed during her caning, had reached her lip and she caught it with her tongue. “Thank you for my lesson, Master and Mistress.”

It was hard not saying she was a good girl. But I said, “Put the cane in the wardrobe, Scallop, and bring me the lube. I’m going to buttfuck your Mistress. Would you like to watch?”

For the first time since she’d crawled into the room she smiled. “Yes please, Master.”

Maires grinned. “You’d rather get buttfucked yourself, wouldn’t you, little Scallop?”

Stephanie had to think. This was a complicated sentence, with many chances to accidentally use a forbidden word. “Scallop would like Scallop’s Master’s cock, wherever he wants to put it. In Scallop. Up Scallop’s arse would be … Yes, please.”

I said, “From now on you only get pleasure when you’ve deserved it, Scallop. So you may have to wait.”

“Yes, Master. Scallop understands.”

“But Maires, hands and knees on the bed. Scallop, lube your Mistress. Thoroughly.”

So Maires took her place, aiming her ass at me, and made a sound that was almost like purring as Stephanie squeezed out lube and worked it inside her rectum, coating those muscles thoroughly, over and again.

“All right, Scallop. Step back a metre, and you’re not to touch yourself. In fact, hands on head.”

“Yes, Master.”

I crawled forward on the bed, cock pointing at Maires’s arse. I put my hand on her hip.

[To be continued]

 

Book covers, one censored and one – I hope – not

I’ve just tried to get an erotic book published. It uses some material taken from this blog, but goes on to turn a short story into a whoie novel.

Anyway, it’s just been rejected for publication, because the cover is too sexy. Here’s the original cover I provided.

So I got rid of the bumcrack, and that nice blush on her bottom where I’d spanked her, and came up with this more demure image.

So wish me luck!

Me now

Inquiring minds may want to know what I look like. If you write erotica you should aspire to be hawt.

I’d say I’m presentable rather than hot, but beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, and anyway here I am. A man with a thing for silly jackets, that even Michael Jackson might have thought a bit over the top. Pic taken about two minutes ago.

 

Bedroom Eyes 29

There was fingernail skittering at the bedroom door, quite low, like a cat scratching to be let in. I said, “Come in!”

A second passed, then the handle turned. Another second passed and the pair of them emerged into the room, Stephanie on her hands and knees, and Maires on her back riding her. Both were naked, their clothes presumably shed in the kitchen. Maires had one hand on Stephanie’s right ear, while her left hand was behind her, holding the riding crop against Stephanie’s left thigh.

Stephanie’s face was a bright red, with darker patches at her cheekbones. Her eyes and nose still ran.

She had, after all, just taken a more severe whipping than I’d ever given Maires, or any submissive. She looked at at the carpet, uncertain if she had permission to look at me or speak. A glistening drop ran down her nose and onto the carpet. I realised that the darker red around her cheekbones wasn’t due to embarrassment but abrasion. When Stephanie had been serving Maires, Maires had clamped her face hard between her thighs, and Stephanie had had to push hard to work her mouth and tongue while tightly held.

Maires said, “Thank you, Master.” She might have been thanking me for permission to enter or her use of Stephanie.

“You’ve obviously had a good time, Maires. But has my new girl had a good time as well?”

Maires said, “I don’t think my ride has ever been so certain, before, that she’s in the place she belongs. And she’s happy to be in her place. Would you mind if I show you, Master?”

“Of course.”

Maires took Stephanie’s right ear in a firmer grip and pulled. Stephanie began to turn, Maires still riding her, until she presented her – and Maires’s for that matter – buttocks and thighs. But while Maires was only lightly marked from discipline I’d given her earlier, Stephanie’s bottom and legs were one large and painful-looking red blotch: a vista of red with occasional darker stripes where the crop had taken her particularly hard.

Maires stood then, her thighs straddling Stephanie, and dismounted. She crossed to the bed and passed me the riding crop. She said, “She took her floggings, and her service well, for a new slave. If I’ve done wrong, Master, please punish me.” She turned away from me and bent herself like a jackknife, her fingertips touching her toes. That was a position she always found slightly uncomfortable, and by choosing it she was making assurances to me about our relationship.

Both women were beautiful, desirable, and presented. I was tempted to take Maires’s offer, and whip her while she was presented, for my own pleasure. Perhaps also because I was slightly ashamed of myself for not having understood the depth of submission that Stephanie wanted, and I was slightly cross with Maires for having been more astute than I’d been.

But while those might be reasons for wanting to flog Maires, they were not good reasons for actually doing it.

I said to Maires, “I’ll deal with you later. For now, get up, love, and stand with your nose to the wall.”

“Yes, Master.” Maires put her hands on her head and walked to press herself against the wall, feet a little apart. She walked to the wall and put her hands on her head, a lithe woman, a clever woman, a woman who knew the relatively pale state of her own skin would not last.

I looked at Stephanie, on her knees with her back to me, her bottom and thighs thoroughly and remorselessly whipped. “You on your hands and knees! Come here!”

Stephanie made to turn and I said, “No! Backwards! Come here, girl.”

She made a sound of understanding, then said, “Yes, Master.” I watched her approach, her cunt and smaller hole seeming to watch me as she crawled. She stopped when I laid the shaft of the crop on her lower back.

I said, “Spread,” and she acknowledged the order then moved her knees about half a metre apart, her back arched like a cat. I clasped her cunt, hard, between two fingers, not seeking to give her pleasure or reward. She was wonderfully wet,  slippery, engorged: I released my grip on her labia and spanked her, starting at medium hard and quickly building up to full punishment spanking.

But I’d have to stop soon, I realised. It was hard not giving Stephanie loving words, to let her know that though we hurt her physically we loved her. As well, she was enjoying the feel of my bare hand against her cunt too much. I shouldn’t be giving Stephanie pleasure. Her world had to be harsh, for now. So I stopped the spanking and said, “Maires taught you a lot about your place, didn’t she?”

“Oh, yes, Master. Thank you, Mistress!” Maires, her body pressed against the wall, said nothing. She knew she didn’t have permission to speak.

[To be continued]

Bedroom Eyes 28

So I lay in bed. Just a few minutes ago that bed had had two women in it, then one. Now there were none. I liked it better before.

Maires, who I loved, had taken the riding crop to see Stephanie, who I also loved. Our dynamic was complicated because Stephanie had reacted submissively to Maires as well as to me, and Maires had discovered a dominant streak in herself. At least when it came to Stephanie.

Since I was nominally and perhaps really in charge, I’d granted Maires her wish to explore her new-found dominant side with Stephanie. I was ashamed of myself for it, but I was frightened that they might get on so well that I’d lose them both, and that would destroy all my happiness, possibly for years. But I knew that Stephanie really did love me, and so did Maires.

And both of them liked male energy and smell, and they enjoyed their interactions with cock too much to want to give it up. So I told myself. So I lay alone and tried to get to sleep. I was exhausted, having spent that night as a sexual provider for both of them.

But I heard a gasp from the kitchen. That was Stephanie. Then there was a low conversation, which ended with a slap. It might have been Stephanie’s face, or her bottom. Then I heard Maires. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she did a reasonable imitation of my command voice.

At the end of Maires’s order I heard a quiet sound from Stephanie. I knew she’d just said, “Yes Mistress.”

Then there was silence. I tried not to imagine what might be happening, and I was drifting to sleep when I heard Maires’s orgasm noise. The guttural, grunting, hard one. Stephanie had paid homage, lip and tongue and nose service, to her Mistress.

There was more silence, and then I heard a kitchen chair dragged across the floor. A sharp command from Maires, loud enough so I knew she’d said Stephanie hadn’t been trying hard enough, and to bend over the back of that chair. Now, slave!

Stephanie, and in a different way I, had to wait nearly ten minutes before the flogging started, the unmistakable sharp slap of a riding crop hitting flesh, over and over. Stephanie was using the shaft as well as the tag. Well, she’d always liked the sight of her own stripes.

Stephanie began to whimper, barely audibly from my room though it would be louder in the kitchen. After a time, with Maires still remorseless, the whimpers became cries and ultimately screams. Maires didn’t stop or even slightly vary the speed or force of the strokes. The flogging went on for what felt like an incredibly long time, though I knew it was only about six minutes.

When the strokes stopped coming, Stephanie for some reason only cried out and wailed louder. She ignored Maires’s command, “Silence!” There was another resounding slap, probably Maires’s hand across her cheek, and Stephanie stopped her noise, instantly. 

There was another murmured command, and as silence resumed I knew this time what was happening. And though I’d been exhausted, my cock was taking an interest and taking on blood. I seemed to be developing an erection again.

The silence continued until Maires came again. It wasn’t quite as loud as her first orgasm, but there was no question that she was enjoying herself. I heard Stephanie say something. It was the hesitant question of a submissive afraid she’d failed to please.

So Maires, I took it, gave her notes on how better to please her. After a few minutes the kitchen chair jerked again and then the flogging resumed, with Stephanie responding high and pained to each stroke. I would not have flogged Stephanie so hard. Maires was pitiless. I had a sense, though, that this was what Stephanie had wanted, and that Maires was right.

After a long time Maires stopped. Stephanie had wailed and screamed throughout her flogging, but after the last stroke she fell silent immediately without being told. After a few seconds I heard her say, loudly by her standards, “Thank you, Mistress.” 

Then more silence, followed at last by Maires’s third orgasm, sounding more wrenched from her than her first two.

I waited for Stephanie’s third flogging, but it didn’t come. Instead I heard rustling and kitchen drawers opened and shut. After a while I heard the slap of crop on flesh again. Incredibly, they were moving. The crop sounded every fifteen to twenty seconds. They passed my bedroom door and went on to the bathroom.

There I expect Maires allowed Stephanie to inspect the state of her bottom and thighs in the mirror. The shower ran, and afterwards I assume that Stephanie received an anointment of cold cream and perhaps even, finally, a loving word from Maires.

At last I heard a knock on the lower panels of my bedroom door.

Bedroom Eyes 27

Maires had asked me if I were jealous of the bond that seemed to be developing between her and Stephanie. It was a question that needs thought, but it also needs an instant answer.

“No, of course not,” I said. “You’re both doing new things – you’re being dominant, and Stephanie’s getting turned on by another woman. I really don’t want to lose you, and I’d be devastated if I did, but I think you should both explore. That,” I grimaced, because I suspected I was lying, “Is the truth.”

Maires came closer, and looked into my eyes. She brushed the hair off my forehead, so we could each see ourselves reflected in the other’s eyes. “Master, I love you. And I’m in lust with you.” She put her hand on my cock, which was still wet with her, or with Stephanie. She smiled at me till I smiled back at her. “I know for a fact that Stephanie is too. In love with you and in lust. But we both want to explore. I feel that from her, and I know I feel the same.”

I said, “I know. And I’m not exactly jealous. Part of me fears that you’ll go off together and leave me behind. I hope that’s stupid: no, I’m sure it is. But I think that fear’s a very slightly different thing from jealousy. Or maybe it isn’t. Anyway, I love you, and I love Stephanie. I hate having to be brave, but I can do it. Explore, my love.”

Maires kissed me. “Master, Jaime, that’s not good enough. Please trust that I love you. I know that Stephanie does. I just want to do something naughty with her. I think it’ll make her closer to you, and I think you’ll like the result. But please, my love, do trust me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I smacked her bottom, as a reminder and for the sensual pleasure of it.”This is wise. If I owned you but didn’t trust you, what would be the point? Anyway, Stephanie’s in the kitchen and I’m sure she won’t mind being interrupted. Maybe you could inspect the plates she’s washed. I bet they’re not perfect. Anyway, you can grab Stephanie in the kitchen, and I’m putting no restrictions on you.”

Maires kissed me again, then scrambled up. Standing, she said, “I know you’re being brave, but I promise you you don’t need to be. You don’t get to be my master, or Stephanie’s, unless we love you.”

I leaned back in the bed and smiled up at her. “Enjoy yourself, and make sure Stephanie does too.”

“Oh Master, I can promise you that too.” She turned, ready to go out the door. She wiggled, knowing that always cheered me up.

I threw a pillow at her. “You make a good hussy.”

“Thank you Jaime.” As she put her hand on the door handle she turned. “Master, would it be all right if I took the riding crop?”