Atelier Dreams

Against my thigh, she got hotter and hotter. Mistress loved having the chance to impose her cruelty; even while I had my eyes tightly closed I was imagining her staring down at the red marks on my cheeks and getting more excited. I didn't have to imagine too hard about that aspect because I could feel how hot she was directly on my skin. She rocked and rolled her hips harder down on me, leaving wet smears on the back of my leg where her pussy had rubbed against me.

Truth was, being her fuck-toy and anything else she wanted to use me as was just what I wanted and needed, just as much as she did. Smack. Her hand landed on my rear again. "Wednesday," she said, her impassive tone of voice undermined by heavy breathing; the sudden fresh painful sharpness carried me right up to the limit of bearability, and the tears were on the brink of overwhelming me and were almost sent running down my cheeks, but I blinked them back and held off from crying. I knew that was going to be the last one—one for each day we'd been missing each other—and it would hopefully be enough to provide her with her sadist thrill. That's not to say I didn't want more, but there's only so much a body should take at once, sadly.

She stiffened against me and ground herself even harder; I heard her grunting in mixed pleasure and exertion as her orgasm came closer and closer. I was leant on heavily, her left hand on my shoulders and the other fondling my aching, bruised rear, She lifted the hand off my bum, and without warning gave me one more smack. I started at the pain and the surprise—I'd thought we were done; calling 'yellow' flashed through my mind, but, despite the tears and the soreness, I was liking it. "One more for luck," she whispered in between shallow pants.

The unexpectedness of that one got me. I had been holding on so well up to then and not breaking, but the final, unanticipated spank was just too much and set my eyes brimming over with tears. It took Mistress, too—or perhaps it was having broken down my last line of resistance that did it. Mistress quivered on top of me, incomprehensibly mumbling the obscenest things possible while she came. Her fingers on my rear were iron, and she dug into my shoulder too with her standing arm. I did my best to rock back against her, but between the sobs and the restraint and her weight on me I couldn't do much to help her on her way—much, that is, besides being in evident discomfort and pain. That bit, I didn't have to try too hard with.

First, she came down mentally from the climax; second, she came down physically, slumping forwards to lie on top of me. Her hair had escaped from the towel and it was messily sticking to her head and shoulders, still damp from the shower and maybe her sweat. She looked happy—her green eyes were so alive—and kissed me very firmly before I could say a word to her. I still had wet tear-tracks running down my cheeks and I was biting back sobs—a more than satisfying result for the both of us.

Tenderly, she cupped my cheek and held me. A tear ran right over her thumb and I sniffled wetly, trying to clear my nose. "Does my little pet want more fucking?"

I weighed it up—seriously tempting, but...

"Um. Mistress, it's been a long day and I sort of have to go back to work tomorrow..."

I'd expected her to be disappointed; instead, she looked relieved. "Thank fuck. I'm falling asleep as it is." She reached up and unlocked the manacles. I rubbed my wrists, enjoying the new-found freedom, and curled myself around her; affectionately and proprietorially, she stroked my hair and held me close while she drifted off. We didn't bother moving into the proper bedroom or stripping the bedding or even taking another shower; all of those would keep until the morning, until we had a proper re-collaring ritual, until we started sorting everything out again. For my part, I didn't need anything except her holding me to fall asleep, safe and secure; Mistress would always blaze her own path, where and how it suited her. Just then, it suited her to lie wrapped around me, all sweaty and dishevelled—and that suited me perfectly. One last choking sob wracked my chest, but it was the last pang of a dying feeling as I surrendered to the warm comfort.

I knew we had a lot of sorting out to do still, but my last thoughts before I fell asleep was that it really was going to be alright and that things—me and Mistress, her art, sitting down comfortably for the next few days, catching up at the lab, everyone on our little planet, and even the universe as a whole—were going to be fine after all.