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THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS
BY PAUL ALEXANDER
CHAPTER THREE
Master is early tonight, it is only 6:15; oh, shit, slavegirl forgot to straighten out her slave chain when she knelt, a quick belly roll to fling the chain out straight between her legs instead of piled up on the floor under her clit. That's more like it, straight as an arrow, just the way Master likes it, except her loins are already dripping.
"Good evening, Master."
"Hello, Pretty Ass, how is my delectable little slavegirl tonight?"
With that, He motions her to her feet and holds out His arms for her to scurry into. She closes her eyes as she raises her lips for His kiss, melting against Him as His mouth ravishes her. One hand gripping her ass, the other running up and down her spine, the kiss lasts twenty minutes and might well pass for a tonsillectomy in some countries. Then, a break from the flood of passion overrunning her body while his hand investigates the general area of her upper thighs.
"Hmm, do I detect a small bit of moisture in this vicinity, at first glance, one might almost think a certain little
slavegirl was slightly horny."
This, while rivers of juice are running down her thighs and pooling on the floor at his feet.
"Master knows full well what His touch does to a hot, horny, helpless submissive pleasure slut like Pretty Ass. May she be permitted the honour of bathing the dust from Master's body."
"You just want to hop in the shower with me, you greedy little wench."
"Of course, Master, what red-blooded slavegirl could want anything else."
"Well...I'll let you wash me but no shower for you, I am not in the habit of indulging greedy little slavegirls!" which is utter nonsense; Master indulges His slavegirl all day, everyday and He knows it perfectly well.
"Right, lick up this pool on the floor and then you can run the bath while I peel off the outer layer of grunge"
"Yes, darling Master."
So she kneels gracefully at His feet, knees spread a little further, bends forward while lifting her ass as high as it will go and delicately laps at the flood of her juice on the floor. Ooh, the feel of His hand on her ass, like a high voltage current direct to her clit, especially when she has already been on fire since breakfast. The men at the club must have caught quite a whiff this afternoon while she was serving drinks but at least she doesn't dance there anymore, she'd have been leaving puddles all over the stage. Master peels off His workshirt, sending a cloud of scraper dust all over His bed area, she will have to run the duster after dinner and vacuum tomorrow morning. She finishes with the flood and hurries to His bathroom to run His bath. While the bath is running, she walks a slow, sensuous strut over to stop several feet in front of Him. She bends from the waist keeping her legs straight until she can place her palms on the floor and only then, steps through her chain. She kneels to ease off His work boots and socks, savouring the delicious smell of man. Kneeling upright, she uses her teeth to undo His belt, unbutton His trousers, and pull down His fly. Using her forearms and breasts to work His trousers down, she slowly pulls them off with her teeth and follows the same procedure with His boxers. Master is fully erect, and the plumbing is in proportion to the rest of Him, i.e. very large. Master is six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds to her five foot four, one hundred fifteen. It is a constant marvel to her that she can take all of Him even in her cunt, much less her mouth. Fortunately, she has learned the lessons of Linda Lovelace, as this has become her second favourite activity. Following her Master to the bath, she offers a shoulder for balance while he steps in and settles Himself into the hot, steamy tub. Using both forearms to hold the sponge, she kneels beside the tub and begins washing the dirt from His body. She wishes she could touch Him with her hands but that would be five strokes for each offence, accidental or otherwise, she dares not take the risk. After half an hour, including some intricate contortions from her, Master orders her over to the shower, while He levers Himself out of the tub. Again, the shoulder for support while Master makes His way into the shower stall. He lathers up her breasts, belly and ass so that she can wash the grey bathwater off Him with her body, taking every opportunity to nuzzle His erection in the process. Where does he get this kind of control, that wonderful implement is hard enough to do someone an injury. She wishes she were permitted to actually enter the shower with her Master but...
"Take that lascivious look off your face, slavegirl, you're not getting your mouth on this yet"
"Maaasterr is a cruueell, evil beast"
SWAT. Ooh...and the fire rages hotter!
"Towel, Pretty Ass."
"Yes, Master, you Beeaast."
SWAT on the other cheek, with predictable results, her juices are spurting, it is a strain to stand up. She reaches for a huge bathtowel, which she stretches between her fingers to the full sixteen-inch length of her wrist chain and tosses the towel over her head so it hangs like a shroud. She squats and steps through the chain so that she can grasp the end of the towel on each side of her ass and then rubs her towel covered body against as much of Him as she can reach. While Master finishes drying Himself, she drains and washes out His tub, no towel for her, she will have to air dry, her bath comes in the morning, in a two foot diameter galvanised washtub out in the middle of the floor.
"Right, then slavegirl, standard evening dress for the moment."
"Yes, Master."
Turning to her wardrobe cabinet a few paces away, she opens the door and speculates, red silk or black nylon. She senses this is a night for opaque so the red it is. First, she has to step through her chain. Clipping the ends of a belly chain to the ring lock at the back of her waist chain, she reaches with her left hand to the slave chain and threads it back up through her belly bangle. Then clips the narrow strip of silk to her belly chain so that it just covers the inside of her thighs and the other, smaller piece from earlobe to lobe across the middle of her nose. The bottom edge of her veil is strung on each side with a dancer's chain of tiny slave bells, which hang just below her jawline.
Less fabric than the average micro bikini and she is now fully dressed for an evening at home with her Master.
End of chapter three
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