The Shack

"Did you enjoy that slave?" He asks breathlessly.

"Mmmmmmm" I moan, still sliding my tongue around the tip. His hand moves up to caress my head.

"Good girl. Daddy is pleased."

With gentle pressure on my forehead he pushes me away and reaches for the blindfold. When the fabric covers my eyes once again I am pulled to my feet, then lifted.

He carries me to the mattress, drops me on my back and once again secures my wrists and ankles.

"I love seeing you this way slave. Open and helpless. Completely at my mercy."

"M-master?" I feel him kneel between my legs, his hands on my knees.

"Be silent child. Your Master is hungry, and now he will feed." His palms move to my inner thighs, a gentle feather touch, and I lift my pelvis slightly.

"Good slave." He murmurs. I feel his hot breath against my sensitive skin as his thumbs open me up. His mouth is an inch away from me when he speaks.

"How much do you love me slave?"

"Oh Master, my love for you is timeless, eternal. Everything I have is yours – my heart, mind, soul and body belong to you."

I am rewarded by his hot tongue, sliding in searing circles around my clit, then lower until probes inside me. I strain against the ropes, pressing upwards into his mouth, delivering myself to him. He devours me, over and over again as I writhe and buck, consumed by the heat between my thighs.

His tongue is relentless, probing, sucking, claiming. The gasps that escape my throat become louder, until I am screaming, my hips lifting off the bed violently. He presses a hand on my stomach and sucks harder as the warm tingling sensation of a burgeoning orgasm takes hold.

"Oooohhh Godddd yyyeeesss." I scream. I am a captive now – held by the powerful waves crashing over me. He takes me to the brink, then beyond it, drinking the flood pouring out of me. Breathing hard I scream and thrash, the pleasure so intense.

"Mmmmmm sweet slave." He moans against my clit, the vibration from his lips causes me to cum again.

My tender flesh pulsates and quivers as I ride the waves, so intense that I do not notice the soft tapping at the door. Only when he speaks do I realise he is standing.

"Aaahhh slave – we have company."

The Shack – Part 9

I pull against my tethers, fully aware of how I must look – open and helpless – like he said.

"M-master – my clothes."

He ignores me and I hear him walk toward the door. The wooden slab creaks open, and I hear feminine footsteps, followed by a soft smack as he kisses her cheek. I strain my ears to hear her speak, but she remains silent. She moves to the corner of the room and I hear her discarded shoes clatter on the floor. Then the unmistakable rustling of clothes being removed. I am so engrossed in the sounds she is making that I flinch when my Master touches my ankle.

"Be still slave." He unties me completely, and then I am lifted slightly and turned over, onto my knees. My wrists are tied together behind my back, and then I feel the indentation of her body, pressing into the mattress a few feet in front of me. I panic, swaying back into my Master. Who is this person? His forearm closes around my

throat, his mouth close to my ear as he hisses.

"I said be still slave. Or do you need more punishment?"

"No Master."

"Just relax slave. Don't ruin Daddy's surprise with your foolishness."

"I-I'm sorry Master."

His knee parts my legs slightly, then he clasps the back of my neck and pushes my head down. I smell her perfume and feel her move toward me. Her hand cups my chin and I try to withdraw, but my Masters' hand is firm and holds me in place. I sense her legs open wide, her pelvis moving forward, her own fingers opening herself. The sweet musk of her as my Master lowers my head.

I lick my lips, then hers. My tongue slides up and down, in and out, then she lies back and I do not notice my Masters' hand leaving my neck. Instead I suck her, hard and slow. Tasting her, pressing down onto her, probing and licking. She moves with me, almost reaching the peak and then withdrawing. I find myself wishing my hands were free, so that I could finger-fuck her. Instead I use my tongue, in and out, then up and down.

I can feel my Masters' cock resting on my ass. He is hard again, or has he been the whole time? Either way I don't care. All I want to do is make her cum. My Master puts two fingers hard inside me, and I pause on a sharp intake of breath. I close around him, pressing back and down. Her hand closes over my head, as if reminding me of the task at hand. I resume eating her, mimicking the movements of my Masters' fingers. Several minutes later he withdraws, only to push the tip of his cock inside me.

"Whose pussy am I about to fuck slave?"

Without thinking a single word crosses my lips.

"Mine." He slaps my ass, sliding his cock through silken folds.

"Who owns this pussy slave?" He bellows, causing me to flinch.

"You do Master – it's yours!"

"Yes slave, this pussy is mine, and I can and will fuck it anytime I please."

"Yes M…" My words die in my throat as he impales me. I clench tight pelvic muscles, holding him for a split second before he slides back, almost completely out of me. The banquet before me all but forgotten as I am fucked by my Master. His hands on my hips, he pulls me back hard, over and over. I feel every magnificent inch of him deep inside me, the sweet friction of timeless joining.

She grows impatient, inserting a finger deep inside herself and smearing her juice across my lips. I lower my mouth to her, sucking hard and fast as my Master claims me. She tries to retreat as her pleasure builds, but I press down hard, my tongue as relentless as my Masters' cock. She cums hard, her hands pressing me against her, a

scream escapes her throat.

My Master grips the back of my neck, pushing down until my forehead touches the mattress. He penetrates deeper, moving faster, slamming into me with each violent thrust.

"Cum for me slave. Cum for your Daddy."

I do not want this to end, this exquisite sensation, but my body gives me no choice but to obey his command.

Beginning with tiny spasms, my orgasm builds to a thundering crescendo of extreme muscle tremors. I push hard against him, screaming, then he explodes inside me. A river of hot, molten cum fills me, extending my ecstasy, prolonging the intensity. I feel his seed spilling deep inside me and once again, I am privileged to receive his gift. I breathlessly murmur; "Thank you Master."

The Shack – Part 10

My Master is still inside me when he unties my hands. Then he pushes me forward and I slide off his cock, our combined fluid dripping out of me. I lie face down on the bed, closing my eyes, still caught up in the force of orgasms. My pussy – his pussy – hot and throbbing. My breathing gradually returns to normal, then slows as I drift off to sleep. I do not know how long I have slept when he awakens me, his lips covering mine. Alarmed at first, my eyes open wide beneath the blindfold as consciousness takes hold, then I return his kiss.

"I'm not finished with you slave". He stands, moving toward the fire. I feel a cool hand on my thigh, but it is not my Masters'. Fingers tapering to long nails probe my cunt, and I wince, my flesh tender from my Masters' pounding cock. I pull away from her and sit up, tucking my arms around my drawn up knees, rocking slightly.

I hear them whispering, but although I strain to hear I can't make out their words. I feel my Master step onto the mattress, then he sits behind me. He opens his legs and pulls me between them, my back pressing against his chest.

He reaches around to tether my wrists and I lean into him. My arms are then lifted over his head and he slides my hips lower. I cannot escape unless my Master ducks his head to free my arms. I feel his hands gliding down my thighs to grip my legs behind the knees. He lifts them up and to each side, opening me up for her.

He speaks to her.

"Go ahead. I know you are hungry".

"M-master p-please" my head tilts to the direction of his face, my voice pleading. She hesitates.

"SILENCE".

I turn my head around further, resting my cheek against his chest.

"Go ahead. She will obey, won't you slave".

I do not speak, for I don't want to obey, remembering her cool, sharp touch.

"I grow impatient slave", his low tone is more threatening than if he'd yelled at me.

"Yes Master. I will obey." The evenness of my voice belies the fear caught in my throat. I feel her crawling toward me, like a lioness that has sighted her prey.

I shrink back toward my Master, murmuring insignificant cries of protest. I try to close my legs, trying to gain leverage with my hips, but to no avail. He grips my legs tighter and I cry out in pain. I cry out again a second later, flinching when her cool hands graze my inner thigh.

"Be still slave, you cannot escape this".

I freeze as her hands climb higher, inhaling sharply as she inserts two fingers inside me, deeper and deeper. Although I am tender inside I tighten around her fingers, pressing down slightly. Then her lips close over my clit, her scorching tongue darting in and out between her teeth. My pelvis tilts toward herm grinding into her mouth as I moan, lying back against my Master. I hear his soft laughter close to my ear.

"Daddy's' little slut." He sucks my neck, and then nibbles gently. He releases my right leg, but it remains in place, his hand sliding up my body to caress my breasts. His other hand moves to the back of her head, pressing her down onto me.

I am bombarded with sensations – my Masters' chest against my back, his mouth, sucking, biting and tasting my upper body, my back, my throat, and her mouth greedily sucking my tormented clit. She splays her fingers inside me, horizontally, then vertically, stretching the soft velvet over and over again.

The feelings overpower me and I surrender to them, screaming his name, writhing, thrashing against him. My body drenched with sweat, I cum harder and harder.

"Oooohhh Yessss". She drinks at the watering hole – the lioness satisfied for the moment. Breathing hard, I collapse against my Master.

The Shack – Part 11

My Masters' hands grip my arms, lifting me, his cock plunging deep inside, lubricating it for another type of entry.

"Ohhh God." I hiss as pelvic muscles stretch and convulse around him. He lifts me again and I cry out as he slides out of me. Then he moves me forward slightly, and slowly I am lowered onto his cock.

I feel the tip enter my ass and lean forward to better accommodate him. He is half way in when his hands grip my upper thighs, pushing me down hard. I cry out, the delicious shock of it forcing me to straighten, and he moans as I clench around him.

"The bag – look in the bag." I hear him speak to her but I am hardly aware of it. I begin to ride his cock as he fucks my ass, harder and harder. I slam down onto his lap, only to rise up and repeat the gesture. My legs either side of his, thigh muscles working hard, lift and relax, again and again.

I don't notice her hands on my thighs, but I pause when I feel the head of the vibrator pushing against my cunt.

"Ooohhhhh God." It slides in easily, well lubricated by her earlier efforts. My Master shudders when he feels the vibration against his cock through the vaginal wall.

I start to move, the sensations once again overpowering me. Like a wild thing I impale myself, faster, deeper, harder.

On the verge of being torn apart, I start to scream incoherently. My nails rake his shoulders and he bites my neck, as if we are entranced by the primal, animal ritual. I cum so violently my whole body shakes, an instant before my Master fills me again. Our ecstatic cries become one, the universe centred at our joining.

She stands in the corner, fumbling for her clothes in the dim light. I did not hear her move, falling back against my Master, lungs inhaling and expelling air rapidly. I feel my Master nod his farewell as she quietly leaves, the door clicking closed behind her. My mind is filled with questions as he lifts my arms over my head, then he unties me. I slide from his lap onto the mattress, still blissfully pulsing from my abundant orgasms.

"Come slave. We must bathe."

I moan in protest, so warm and cosy. On the edge of sleep, I mutter a single word.

"No".

"SLAVE!"

My eyes open sharply beneath the blindfold as I realise too late what I have said.

"I'm sorr…"

He lifts me roughly from the bed, his hands digging into my thighs. I am thrown over his shoulder, his arm closed across the back of my legs.

He opens the door and walks out into the night. I gasp at the chill in the air, the sounds of crickets loud to my ears, mocking the foolish slave. We descend a small path to the stream and my Master wades into the dark water. He stops when I feel the icy chill biting my fingertips, then lifts me down until I am cradled in his arms.

"You said 'NO' to me slave. Here is your punishment."

"Master please…"

I am thrown out into the water, the frigid current bombarding me, the stones hard as I hit the bottom. I scream as I come up for air, fighting for a foothold, trying desperately to stand. He ignores me, splashing water on his body, amused at my attempts.

Finally I find sturdy ground and I stand on numb legs. I fold my arms across my chest, the water lashing my thighs, my hair cold against my naked back. He finishes bathing, and then extends his hand to me. I ignore it, slowly balancing on slippery rocks until I stand before him, his hand still outstretched.

I move to walk past him when he speaks.

"Take my hand slave."

His tone chills me more than the stream, but I do not move, my wounded pride will not allow it.

"Take your Masters' hand you hard-headed little slut, or I will throw you out further this time."

The Shack – Part 12

I cannot look him in the eye as I slide my palm into his.

"Do you have something to say to me slave?"

"I am s-sorry M-master." Shivering, I breathe out the words through clenched teeth. The only warmth I feel is the palm of his hand where his skin touches mine.

"Come slave." He leads me out of the stream, up the bank and along the path to the shack. Inside I am pulled toward the fire, welcoming the warmth of it on my skin. I crouch down, extending my outstretched palms to the flames. My Master retrieves two towels from the bag, then returns to the fire, gently lifting me until I stand before him.

"Dry yourself slave. Slowly." He throws the towel at my feet and I feel him move away. I have no idea where he is, but I know he watches me.

I bend my knees to retrieve the towel, then quickly stand.

"I said SLOWLY slave."

Flinching at the sound of his voice I pause, breathing steadily. I lift the towel, soft and warm, to my face, across my forehead, then over the sodden blindfold. Lower, over the bridge of my nose, cheekbones then lips. It slides down my throat, across each shoulder and collarbone in turn, then down each arm to my hands.

Every movement slow, deliberate, I am soon entranced by the feel of the absorbent fabric against my skin. I close my eyes, lips parting slightly, imagining his hands caressing me. Despite the cool, tiny droplets on my skin, I grow warm, but it has nothing to do with the fire.

My hands have a mind of their own as they move the towel lower. Down between my breasts, around the underside, ever so slowly. Then back up and over them, the towel grazing my nipples, which harden at the contact.

Down further to my sternum, following the ribs around to each side. Then down over each hip, moving across my belly in slow, circular motions. Lower still, over the soft bump of the pelvic bone, legs parting slightly as I dry between them. My head tilts back as I inhale, holding in the air for a moment before it is released on a moan.

I move the towel around to the small of my back, then down over my buttocks, my body turning a few degrees. I extend my left leg, bending the knee; the ball of my foot rests on the floor, toes bent. The towel slides around my thigh as I lean forward, over the protrusion of kneecap, then behind it, between sinewy tendons. I bend lower, over flexed, prominent calf muscles, around to the shin. My foot is last, sliding fingers over my ankle and around to the arch.

While I am bent over I start on the other foot, straightening my left leg to bend the right, gradually repeating the process in reverse. I hear ragged, irregular breathing, but I cannot tell wether it comes from my Masters' lungs or my own. I stand up straight; towel in hand, the task complete.

"I am finished Master."

"Your hair slave." He stands to the side of me, closer than I thought. I feel foolish – how could I forget my hair? I tilt my head to the right, my left hand moving behind my neck, pulling the strands over my shoulder. I wrap the towel around thick clumps of hair, each tapering to a point, intermittently releasing drops of water.

With two hands I rub, then move the towel to my head, splaying my fingers to massage my scalp. I flinch when his hands cover mine, so engrossed in my work I did not feel him approach. His palms warm on the backs of my hands, he leans forward, his words a whispery breath to my ear.

"Let me slave." My arms fall by my sides and I tilt my head back. He removes the blindfold, and then I feel his hand reach around to my throat. Warm fingers brush my collarbone as he slides my hair around to fall down my back, the cool ebony strands brushing over my breast.

He gently dries my hair, his touch heavenly. Then he wipes my shoulders and upper back before dropping the damp towel to the floor.

"Now you are finished slave."

"Yes Master."

The Shack – Part 13

He moves toward the fire, adding more logs to the dying embers, flooding the room with soft amber light. He walks to the edge of the mattress, replacing the sheet, my eyes following his every movement.

"Come here slave." I go to him, as commanded.

"Lie on the bed." I obey, kneeling on the mattress before turning to lie on my back. He mimics my movements until he is beside me, propped up by an elbow he looks down at me. His free hand reaches out, closing around my waist and pulling me toward him. I inhale sharply as our bodies touch.

His head lowers and his mouth closes over mine. My arms move up and around the back of his neck, pulling him down. His tongue plunders my mouth, and I welcome it. Our lips slide against each other while exploring hands caress. Eyes closed, I feel him lean over me while his knee parts my legs. His hands move under me and I press my upper back down as he lifts my hips. I feel his erection, hard between my legs, and sense his raw need. My hands stilled on his back, confusion

clouds my features.

"M-master?"

He lifts his mouth from my neck.

"What is it slave."

"Aren't you going to bind me Master?"

Amusement shines in his eyes, his mouth slightly up turned in a hint of a smile.

"No slave. I want you to touch me."

I cannot answer, for he returns his mouth to my neck, and it is hard to speak when you are melting. His tongue, teeth and lips resume torturing my erogenous flesh.

In one swift movement he rolls over, pulling me with him so that I straddle him, just above his groin. My head spins at the sudden change in altitude, my palms resting on his chest for support. My feet lie flat against the mattress, either side of his hips, and he lifts me onto his cock.

A soft whimper escapes my throat.

"You are too sore for your Masters' cock slave?"

I look down into his eyes, my pupils dilated with passion.

"Never." As if to prove my point, I clench around him. Outwardly there is no visible movement, but inside where we are joined, silken muscles ripple along his shaft. He closes his eyes.

"Aaaaaghh good slave."