Worshipping (Part 2)

Worshipping takes on many forms, tactile, oral, and other.  It was my privilege to start while He was still dressed.  He lead me from the living room to a large bedroom.  At the end of a king sized bed sat a bench – ordinary enough in appearance, though leather clad.  The leather about my neck now attached to a short expanse of chain, more a lead than a leash.  The links were small, and light.  The leash, and the collar, both more symbol than practical restraint.  i am naked, He is fully clothed.

“Where shall we begin?” His voice, again low, rumbles through his chest.  It’s not, I realize, a rhetorical question.  Then it dawns on me, what good is worship that is driven by commands?  He wants, i hope, for me to enjoy his body as i hope, breathlessly, that he will take and enjoy mine. 

“May i undress You, Sir?” my voice trembles slightly, afraid to misinterpret what is going on.  He hears that tremble, places a hand on my neck, feeling the pulse racing there.  He leans toward me, kissing me lightly on the head, a quieting of my nerves.  He is generous in this.  He is not a cruel Master. 

He sits on the bench, black denim against black leather.  i look at him only a moment, then kneel once again before him. 

“Tell me what you see.  Tell me what you want.”  i look at him.

“You are beautiful, Sir.  I want nothing but to please You.”

“That’s not all you want.  Tell me what you really want.”

i hesitate.

“i want to touch You, to smell You, to commit You to memory.  i want to taste You, to feel You hard.  i want you to find pleasure in me.”

i hold my breath.  Afraid i’ve been too honest.  Expressed too much need.  In some way been too demanding.

He leans back.

“Then touch Me.”

i hesitate.

“Touch Me, start with My boot.”

i reach down, bare fingertips against the leather of His boot.  The boot’s black, lace up, polished and shiny.  i feel the smooth leather, stiff, against my fingers.   i can feel His ankle, the top of His foot.

“Now… smell.”

i lower myself to the carpet.  my face, my nose hovers just above the leather.  i slowly inhale the scent of leather, of boot polish.  i feel, laying my face against his boot, warmth coming from the tanned hide. 

“I want to hear you breath Me in. I want to know that you value this time we’re spending together.”

i inhale more deeply, hearing my own breath rasp as i try to inhale Him. 

“Now… taste.”

in times past, i’d have hesitated to put my mouth on a boot.  those time were no longer.  i’d been given permission to touch my Master in a very intimate way.  i was fortunate.  He was generous.

With my face still against the leather of his boot, my nostrils full of his scent, i began to lave him with my tongue.  The leather was clean, the polish slightly bitter.  i let my tongue travel over the whole of his left boot, sucking on the boot strings.  i could feel my own hardness beneath me, but it was secondary to the sensations of touching Him.

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