Dominance and domesticity

A Tuesday.

As usual on a Tuesday, my Master's work schedule has him within a very few miles of my home. We have fallen into a pattern now. He does what he can to keep a few hours open for a visit. Conceivably, he could be here as early as shortly after 10 am, but he is more likely to arrive anywhere between 11 and 1:30.

And then he stays.

No more snatched half hours like when I was working and would run home to strip off my clothes, suck his cock, clear away the tell-tale traces of our meeting, pull my clothes back on and dash back to the office, eating a sandwich as I drove the mile and a half and arriving always late and always not quite there at all. Not to mention that it often hurt to sit.

Not very satisfactory.
Although maybe it fit where we were at the time.
It accentuated the primacy of my service, despite the inconvenience.

Now, though, in our third year, even given all our struggles - or perhaps because of them - we are comfortable with each other. So he comes and spends hours and eats lunch and cums before he goes.

What is there to say about a day such as today? Certainly I could recite this detail and that.

How he ordered me to touch myself for the longest time, sitting before him, while he watched - watched my face, not my pussy, watched me arouse myself for his pleasure...

How he spent the weekend obsessing over my belly, until a vision of it all soft and pale and round kept him awake much of the night, and how he found a way to pose me lying back over a mound of pillow and afghan so that I approximated the image that had haunted him... and how I kept my belly all soft and yielding despite my fear that he would hurt me and how he really didn't hurt me there at all.

How for the first time he didn't tell me I could eat after he had lunched on the beautiful, delicious, and horribly healthy salad I made for him as usual. How I vaguely noted that fact but didn't really care.

How he came and spent hours even though he had some work to do, which he managed to somehow accomplish while I sat naked before him, touching myself per his order, and then fondling his cock, although every few minutes he had to stop and lean over and enjoy my mouth with the sweetest, gentlest, and most erotic kisses you could possibly imagine. No phone calls while I sucked his cock, though. Not this time. He sent me upstairs to get lunch while he made his phone calls. Probably just as well.

It was so comfortable having him down in the dungeon, working, making his phone calls, while I puttered around upstairs, putting the finishing touches on the salad, all the while naked and with the long chain of his ownership clipped tight around my neck and wound round it again and again in a hard and heavy and very welcome reminder of his ownership.

So many little things.
So many lovely little things.

And in the end, after he came in my mouth, which he doesn't usually do, I sat at his feet with my head against his belly and he stroked my hair, so sweetly, so gently, for the longest time, and with such affection...

And the walls of the room swelled with our happiness.