Book Night

She crawls towards me as I stand by the open door, feline grace in every movement, a smile born of the eagerness of the pleasure to come on her face; she licks her lips as she crawls, eyes focused on the object of her desire, as I stand and watch her approach me, the site of her undulating body sending small pulses of adrenaline through every nerve. I love every part, every delicious sight of her -- her naughty smile, her short hair, her breasts barely contained by white dress shirt, her ass flirtatiously wiggling just for my pleasure, covered only by a short plaid schoolgirl skirt, her feet and legs wrapped in white knee-high stockings, her eyes full of need and desire as she moves to caress my leg, the black leather collar around her neck contrasting and enhancing her milky white skin. She looks up at me from her place on the floor, teeth biting her lower lip tremulously, her eyes pleading for permission to welcome me home. I pause for a moment, tormenting both of us with anticipation, then nod graciously, granting her unspoken request. She smiles again and leans in to nuzzle the bulge at the front of my pants with her delicate nose, licking and kissing at the fabric. Involuntarily, I shudder, unable to completely contain my excitement, but with an effort of will I control myself.

"Hello, little one," I tell her, breaking the silence, my words a signal allowing her to speak at last.

She places one final tiny kiss on the crotch of my pants, a small, wicked smile creasing her face as she looks up into my eyes. "Hello, Sir," she says, her voice soft and breathy, "I missed you very much, and I'm so glad you've come home."

Fondly, I stroke her hair and put a gentle hand to her cheek; she closes her eyes and rubs her face in my palm, cooing softly with happiness. "So am I, my dear -- I missed you too." My heart hammers in my chest, my pounding pulse nearly making my hand shake with desire, but after a short, brutal struggle, I master myself once more. Tonight is a special night, after all, and it wouldn't do to squander it by rushing.

"Did you do all your chores?" I ask her.

She nods happily, still making small, adorable sounds of contentment as I touch her cheek. "Yes Sir, I finished them all; everything is clean and prepared just as You said."

I smile, and my hands move to her hair, petting softly. "Good girl." Without warning I seize her hair roughly, pulling her to her feet. She whimpers, but the sound is muffled as I kiss her savagely, my tongue invading her mouth. A moan builds in her throat as her body eagerly wraps itself around mine, her head still held in place by my insistent hand pulling on her hair. My control over her is intoxicating; by contrast, I can barely control myself, now that she is pressed against me. Lust pounds through my veins, begging to be freed, to sate itself on her, but once again I push it down, my will enfolding the both of us, restraining me from rushing, and directing her every move. After what seems like an eternity of drinking in her breath, I free my mouth from hers; she moans softly, wanting more, but held in place by her desire to obey.

"A salad, I think," I tell her. "Nothing too heavy -- I have plans for you tonight."

She smiles eagerly, body still writhing against my own for a moment or two, then she lowers her eyes and moves away to fetch dinner for me, her ass wiggling seductively under her tiny skirt as she moves. I sigh appreciatively, watching her watch, then toss my coat in the closet and sit in my chair, relaxing comfortably. I hear her moving in the kitchen, the soft swish of her skirt arousing me even when she's out of sight; I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing calmly, excitement burning through my blood.

She appears in the kitchen doorway, carrying a small tray on which a small salad, a glass of water, a napkin and some cutlery rests, her breasts rising and falling with her breath, beneath her thin shirt. She moves carefully, to avoid disturbing the contents of the tray, and kneels before my chair, bowing her head and holding up her offering of dinner to me. I inspect the salad, then nod and take the tray from her; she smiles and lowers herself to the ground, wrapping her body around my feet and removing my shoes to warm them with her breath and soft kisses as I eat. I hurry through my small meal, though I try not to show it, and wipe my mouth with the napkin; a crook of my finger, and she rises, retrieves the tray, and returns it to the kitchen. She hurries back and kneels before me once more, eyes alight with eagerness.

"Shakespeare tonight, I think," I tell her. "I'm in the mood for something classical."

She nods and rises, the sight of her pale, taut legs as she moves only increasing my desire; it only takes her a moment to find the proper leather-bound volume on the bookshelf, and she offers it to me as she offered the tray. I smile, taking the book from her, and stroke her cheek.

"Good girl," I tell her, and she shivers with happiness.

Flipping through Shakespeare's collected works, I settle on The Taming of the Shrew, the subject matter of the play making me smile wickedly; turning the book, I hand it back to her and wave a hand. She nods in understanding, eyes still afire, knowing what my choice means.

"Yes Sir!" she says, and hops back to her feet, her ass still teasingly wiggling as she walks over to the desk across the room. Placing the book atop the old antique, she turns on the reading lamp above the pages and bends over, her skirt flipping up briefly as she does so, allowing me to see that she isn't wearing panties, just as I commanded. I smile at the sight, and indulge myself in waiting for a few moments, merely looking at her nubile form from my place in the chair. The air is electric as the seconds tick past, but finally I can't resist my urges completely, and I rise and cross the room to stand behind her.

"Begin," I tell her, and she starts to read, her voice measured but taut with excitement. I listen to the first lines of the play, waiting briefly, and then I flip up her skirt, exposing her ass and pussy completely to my sight. She manages to suppress a gasp, her rhythm almost faltering, but she recovers in time. I place a hand on her beautiful bare skin, rubbing it, feeling it, noting the shiver that moves through her body at my touch. A few more lines of the play pass, and then I begin softly spanking her, the blows starting as mere slaps, but building in force slowly; she moans, but continues reading, pain becoming pleasure amongst the words of the play. I continue spanking, more forcefully, then more forcefully yet, until her whole body is rocked by my slaps to her buttocks, her head bouncing over the pages of the book as she reads. As she reaches the midway part of the first scene, the spanking ceases, and I rub her now-red ass; she coos once more, revelling in the pleasure I am allowing her, and keeps reciting at a steady pace, knowing what the penalty of not doing so is. My hand moves almost of its own accord down to her clit, nudging and rubbing it, as I watch her reaction. She shudders again, pleasure wracking her form, trying to focus on the words in front of her. I smile again, and slip my fingers inside her wetness as she reads, timing every movement carefully.

She begins to groan softly with passion, her hips beginning to move up and down, fucking my fingers even as she desperately moves towards the end of the first scene. I can feel her pussy clenching around my hand, becoming hotter and wetter as the introduction of the play moves towards its end, her body responding as much to the words as it is to my caresses. She moans and writhes, somehow managing to keep her place amongst the lines of the play, but her excitement soon builds beyond her control, and she gasps, desperately impaling herself on my hand, straining towards orgasm, but knowing that I won't let her do so if she doesn't finish properly, she will be frustrated. Words tumble past her lips now as she races to finish, needing to finish; I slip another finger inside her and start rubbing her clit with my other hand. She cries out, nearly panicking in her desperation to cum, and soon enough she reaches the end of the scene. There is a brief pause.

"Well?" I ask softly.

Her voice is barely intelligible. "PLEASE... Sir! I beg... please... may I... oh PLEASE...!"

I lean in close so that I may whisper in her ear. "Good girl. Cum for me now."

She needs no further goading; her eyes roll back in her head and she howls with delight as her orgasm grips her, body bucking and thrashing over the desk, her pussy clenching around my fingers as cum gushes forth, drenching my hand. I continue thrusting my fingers into her, prolonging her orgasm, even as her knees buckle with pleasure and she collapses on top of the desk, groaning and twitching uncontrollably, riding a crest of ecstasy. I watch her, smiling, loving every moment of her display of animal lust, until finally she subsides, whimpering happily. I withdraw my fingers from her and hold them to her mouth; she sucks and licks at them hungrily, cleaning her cum with her tongue. I shudder slightly at the sensation of her ravenous sucking, the movement of her mouth on my hand incredibly, erotically intoxicating. She feels my body tremble slightly with excitement, smiles around my fingers, and finishes licking my hand completely clean. Then she waits, transfixed, for my next command.

"Second scene," I say, trying to hide my longing.

She shivers with excitement, more aroused than I am by her next task, and hands me the book, then she scurries across the room to kneel beside my chair, nearly bouncing with expectation. I smile gently and follow her, deliberately keeping my movement slow and controlled. Sitting down, I switch on the reading lamp above my head and place the book on the arm of the chair; teasingly, I spend time getting myself settled, just so, refusing to acknowledge her pleading eyes until I've made myself completely comfortable. Then I look at her.

She bites her lip. "Sir, may I?"

I nod. "Yes, you may."

She smiles with delight and begins attacking the buttons of my pants, and within a few moments has them off, the bulge in my shorts barely concealed now. Her gaze flicks over it, famished, but she has tasks to complete before she receives her reward, and she bends to remove my socks. Finally, she slides her delicate hands in the waistband of my shorts and draws them down, slowly, not looking at the erect cock that springs to attention as soon as she does so; instead, she folds my clothes and neatly sets them in a pile to the side, and looks at me again, near-desperation in her gaze now. I wait for a few seconds, watching her shift uncomfortably, the effort of not staring at the focus of her arousal making her shiver, and finally, unable to hold back any longer, I relent.

"You may begin worshipping my cock, girl," I tell her, and her eyes become wet with delight. Settling herself between my legs, she leans forward and begins gently licking my balls, cupping them and blowing soft breaths of air on the warm saliva she leaves. I moan, just a little, the sensation a mere hint of the pleasure to come, and pick up the book once more. I begin reciting the second scene, even as I feel her tongue move up my shaft in slow, deliberate strokes, truly savouring every taste. It takes all my concentration to keep my eyes on the text, even as I put a hand to her head, stroking her hair as she licks.

Finally, she moves her mouth over the head of my cock, swirling her tongue around it, then slides slowly down its length, taking it all into her throat, moaning around it, loving it. I gasp, nearly losing my place, eyes becoming unfocused for a moment; with supreme effort, I keep reading, though my hips begin to twitch. She runs her hands under my shirt and strokes my chest, and once again my words nearly lapse into indistinct mutters of pleasure. I feel her head bobbing beneath my hand, my fingers curling in her hair, the pressure in my body building, slowly but surely. I quicken my pace, trying to finish the scene in the play, but she keeps pace with me, tongue and mouth moving faster and faster, begging for me to climax. I groan, hips thrusting now, unable to resist, the anticipation I so deliberately built since arriving home beginning to sweep me away, helpless, toward orgasm. My tongue tumbles over my teeth, recited words mixing equally with grunts of lust; my hand pulls on her hair as she sucks my cock. She moans in response, tongue tasting the precum oozing from the tip of her favourite treat. She begins to move faster, working my cock a passion borne of her own wild pleasure at the sensation of my pulsing sex in her mouth.

I can feel myself shooting towards climax, even as I finish the last few lines of the scene; she knows it by heart, just as I do, and moans again, eager for the scene's end, knowing that her favourite reward of all is mere seconds away. I twist and thrust into her willing mouth, heedless of any consideration of control now, the last few words tumbling from my lips even as the book tumbles from my hands; seizing her head with both hands, I shove my cock deeply down her throat, feeling it contract and massage the head as she swallows around it, the pleasure tipping me over the edge, past the point of no return. I grunt and snarl, unable to speak now, only capable of emitting animal sounds of passion. One more thrust, two, three, and my orgasm ravages my brain, annihilating conscious thought, even as my cock explodes in her mouth, spraying volley after volley of sweet cum down her throat. She swallows it all, sucking and licking happily, even as I collapse back into my chair, spent, chest heaving with exertion. She carefully cleans my cock and leans her head against it, her gaze meeting mine, adoration in her expression. I smile, and touch her cheek gently, and she purrs and nuzzles into my hand.

"Good girl," I tell her, once I recover my voice. "I see you're developing a taste for Shakespeare."

"Yes Sir," she whispers, still rubbing her face on my palm. "I like when we read to each other very much."

"So do I, my dear. So do I. You're doing so well -- you know all the scenes almost by heart now, don't you?"

She smiles shyly. "Yes Sir."

I smile back. "That's my girl." I pat her cheek. "Now take the book and my clothes into the bedroom and wait for me -- we have a lot more to read tonight, don't we?"

She sighs happily. "Oh, yes Sir!" She leans around the chair to grab the fallen book as well as the small pile of folded clothes lying next to it and rushes to the bedroom, as I watch her skirt swish back and forth from my place in my chair. I relax for a few moments, and my gaze falls on the television sitting across the room from my chair, and I chuckle quietly, trying to remember the last time it was used.

Books are so much better, after all.

Finally I stand, and move towards the bedroom door, knowing that she waits for me, book in hand. As I pass by the bookshelf, I pause, considering what we'll read together tomorrow night.

"So many books..." I say quietly to myself, and smile at the thought, then move to the bedroom, closing the door behind me, ready for the next scene to begin.