Devoting

Rubber enveloped the slave's body as if he inhabited a chrysalis state. Candles flickered and cast a special radiance on the material hugging his skin, a pleasure in and of itself. He peered through the open eye-holes in his hood. Even in the faint glow, the slave's eyes could almost see the couch and coffee table to the left of him, empty now, but ...

Time ticked away ...
How long?
And the slave waited, sitting on his knees...
Imagining the sensation that would be coming ...
Picturing her coming ...
Walking into the room encompassed by latex herself ...
Hearing her heels click against the floor ...
The latex squeaking and squishing with her body movement ...
And then, she'd be there ...there that shifts into the present ...
Here, now ...
Hearing her voice issuing commands. Feeling her latex gloves caress his cheeks before grabbing the chain attached to the collar around his neck.
Sensing the heat emanating from her, her breath, the entire situation.
Excitement builds within him, propelling him forward. He crawls on the ground as the mistress pulls him to the couch. His lips strokes her feet then moves up her form. Hands roam all over her body, moving from her thighs to her breasts, the sensation calling up a feeling that the word desire falls short of describing. She graces his touches with her own, rubbing his head, touching his dick.
The demands come shortly thereafter. He serves her champagne, lights her cigarette. She blows smoke in his mouth as he kneels before her, gazing up into her eyes as they exchange words that please each other.
Time goes by. Tasks are served by the slave, a little massage, some food served, a delightful little Italian that was ordered in advance (for this bachelor usually opts out from cooking himself). They luxuriate in each other's presence as delights get imbibed and devoured, in all forms, including thoughts taking shape as words that wrap around each other as its own special bondage.
But perfection is rare. Maybe a wrong look, and, oh, a spilled drop, something slightly askew ... the mistress becomes displeased, even if only momentarily. But displeasure must be rectified.
In its own special way.
For a time, the rubber is peeled away from the slave ...
And the toys come out ...
The flogger ...
The whip ...
And he feels the force against the skin ... hears the snapping power behind him ... the leather tearing into his flesh, over and over and over again ... gets stunned by her hand pounding on his ass, forceful and demanding ...
The slave stirs as she plays his flesh as if an adult toy to be tinkered with, tweaking his nipples, zapping his balls, digging her fingernails into his flesh.
Somewhere outside the sun threatens the night with its presence. Where people would arise and walk around looking at what conformity promises. Advertising lust yet attempting to limit it all the same. That was outside, though ... inside, they pursued the bliss that could be found in the flesh. Digging deep in flesh and rubber to reach an otherworldly level.
The slave had a life -- has a life, one that consists of the usual restrictions, obligations, bills -- but he's emerging into a new form, one that understands devotion ... and the pleasures, even in pain, that may involve such a life.
THE END

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