Coming back to the present was a slow, dreamy glide. What was around her only added to the sensory pleasure of the memory. She loved the grotto Jon had built, turning the screened back patio under their deck into a water feature, such that she felt like she was stepping out of the house and into a secluded lagoon.
They’d visited an island retreat last year. The open-aired cottage had a private stretch of beach for a front view, and a grotto for a bathing area in back. The stone alcove provided subtle crevices for soap and shampoo. Multiple jets and falling water mixed together to create the best of both natural waterfall and modern-day shower. The liquid fell into the deep pool beneath the grotto’s shelter.
Upon their return, Jon had designed her one that naturally included a few tailor-made improvements. Such as embedded eye-bolts for restraints, and those multiple jets could be angled in some interesting directions. He’d also moved one of their large Japanese maples to form a canopy that started beneath the arch of the grotto and extended outward to drape over the pool. He’d attached drip lines to it so that when she wasn’t using the grotto for bathing, it could be a different kind of water feature.
When the drip lines were turned on, it created a gentle rainfall into the pool. She could curl up in one of the nearby lounge chairs and enjoy it while reading or catching up on her work stuff from either her yoga studio or physical therapy job. Periodically, she would look up from that to check on the daily busy antics of birds, squirrels, or an occasional deer or two in the backyard. Their mix of natural landscaping and Rachel’s garden was an inviting transition to the several acres of woods that surrounded the house.
This was her life today. Thinking of what it was now, versus what it had been, for so many years, she closed her eyes and leaned against the smooth bank of rocks. Jon had ensured they had no sharp edges. It was part of his wizardry, but not the most important part of it to her.
Proving what was, she felt his arms slide around her and melted back into his arms. His mouth found her throat above the banded silver wire collar she wore, evidence of her Master’s ownership. She always wore it at home.
“Aren’t you supposed to be kneeling?” he asked.
“You arrived early.” She smiled as he dropped a hand and gave her bare ass a pinch, then she bit her lip as his clever fingers slid forward over her smooth cunt and stroked. Petted her for the simple pleasure of touch, rather than a probing demand for sexual response, though it accomplished both ends.
“Mouthy sub. I decided I’d much rather take a shower with you sooner than later. The alternative is fighting with that engineering disaster Peter dropped on my desk Friday. Save me from college-trained engineers who don’t have enough mechanical experience to change a tire. I can get ten times better drafting work out of the plant foremen who actually know how something is machined.”
He cupped her breasts. “Good thing I have an obedient sub to distract me from my frustrations.”
She dropped her head back, pressing her ass against the front of his jeans. Since it was the weekend, he wore them and a worn, button-down shirt he’d never buttoned, because he’d gotten distracted earlier in the day. At breakfast he’d come up with some idea and disappeared into his workshop muttering to himself, making her smile into her tea.
She could go see him at any time, and he’d welcome her company, but she liked giving him his space and time to pursue his projects. She worked in the garden, or on her painting, since she was taking a watercolors class. Sometimes she meditated, watched a favorite TV program, called and chatted with Dana… No matter what she was doing, and he was doing, she felt connected to him.
The comfortable domesticity was balanced with the pleasure of being his submissive. He exercised his Dominance over her in myriad ways, both expected and spontaneous. However, every Friday, which was her half-day of work, they shared a pure service ritual that she anticipated, a way of grounding and reminding her of her core self.
He’d leave her instructions to prepare him dinner, with precise directions on what she should wear, and how he wanted everything laid out, even down to the polish on the silver and the fold of the napkin. Often, she became so absorbed in the process, it was a form of subspace.
When he came home from work, she’d be waiting by his chair at the table, ass on her heels, hands clasped at her back, head down, wearing nothing but a pair of heels and his collar. Every time, she held her breath as he sat down at the meal and surveyed everything with careful attention. When he’d touch her cheek, stroke, it was a sign of his approval. That subspace feeling would return, a euphoric cloud on which she floated as she served his meal.
It didn’t stop with dinner. He took care to lay out every detail, including how to clean and put away the dishes after she cooked, how he wanted the bed prepared for when he would take his sub to it and she’d serve his pleasure there. Sometimes it was merely fresh linens. One time, during the gardenia blooming season, he had her cut a few blooms from the bushes around the outside of the house and scatter the petals over the sheets. The strong fragrance had wound around them as they moved together on the bed.
Whatever variances occurred with the bed preparation, what happened in it always involved pulling four earth-shattering climaxes from her.
One by suckling her nipples, his body laying upon her, her hips rising to rub her core against his ridged abdomen, if he allowed that. One with him in her mouth, while a vibrator hummed between her legs until she was moaning against his cock. Then, leaving the vibrator on, he’d push his well lubricated member into her rectum, taking her deep there.
After that, he’d tie her to the bed, spread out. The vibrator was removed and replaced with one of his diabolical little inventions. The latest one had been inspired by a toy belonging to Cass and Lucas’s cats. A little soft ball with metallic slender threads, creating a spiky surface.
He’d balanced his version of it on her clit, and told her she couldn’t move, couldn’t let it fall, when he went into the bathroom to clean himself. As her body heat was conveyed to the device, the threads had started to move, delivering tingling little shocks to that sensitive bundle of nerve endings. Finally, when she thought she’d lose her mind, Jon had returned. Setting the toy aside, Jon had lain down upon her fully, and slid himself into her once more slippery pussy. He’d stayed that way a long moment, elbows braced on either side of her head, their eyes close and full of one another.
Then he started to move, and before long the fourth orgasm gripped her, the most powerful one of all. It was the one driven as much by the heart and soul as the body.
Afterward, he untied her and they went to sleep, him curled protectively around her, breath upon her neck.