Master and submissive

The crystalline blue lake sparkles in the early autumn sun. The surface of the water is so still that the reflections of the pine trees around it are nearly mirror prefect. A house nestles on the side of the mountain overlooking this quintessential picture of serenity. A wide veranda winds around the house that juts out from the craggy slope — it is mindful of a magnificent ship sailing straight out of the rock.

Mari and Rose lounge on the veranda, sipping iced tea. Their glasses and the pitchers they drink from are color coded. It is very important to not mix them up. Mari’s tea contains the medications that keep her heavy breasts lactating.

Mari and Rose share one common physical trait — thick, wavy, lustrous hair hanging just above their knees. In all other things they are a study in contrasts. Mari — with her auburn hair, golden skin and lush, ripe curves — conjures up images of Greek goddess statues. Rose — with her raven tresses, creamy pale skin, and tiny build — would appear perfectly at home perched on a toadstool in an enchanted forest.

Mari sits on a wide chaise, idly stroking Rose’s hair. Rose sits at Mari’s feet, grinding her crotch onto Mari’s foot and gazing intently at Mari’s moist and glistening folds. Their light chatter of what wicked things Master Andrew will do to them when he arrives home is punctuated by Rose’s soft moans and cries. Suddenly the petite woman’s body goes rigid and begins to tremble, as the waves of pleasure ripple through her. Mari looks on greedily until Rose is quite still. With no change in the timbre of her voice, Mari says, “You have made a mess, clean it up. God, you have such a sloppy cunt.”

Without hesitation Rose shifts and bends her head to lick and lap her juices from Mari’s soaked foot. Mari raises her food and starts to slowly push it into Rose’s mouth, stretching the lips taut. Mari looks down fondly on her sister slave and withdraws her foot. Rose looks up questioningly. Mari smiles and pats the chaise next to her, “Come sit with me.”

Rose rises gracefully and curls next to Mari; Rose bends her head to nuzzle with lips and tongue at Mari’s throat, working upward until their lips meet. Arms wind around bodies; lips part; tongues and breaths mingle. Soft sighs rise to harmonize with the light songs of the birds. Moving as one, the girls recline on the chaise, bodies writhing and legs intertwining. Mari’s heavy, milk-laden breasts are releasing their nectar onto Roses petite orbs. Mari tears her mouth away from Rose’s consuming lips. A low guttural moan spills from Rose as Mari laps and sucks her own milk off the tiny breasts. Rose arches her back and gasps when Mari engulfs one erect nipple in her mouth. Mari suckles quietly for a time before moving on to the other nipple.

Rose roughly pulls Mari back up so they can devour each other’s mouths again. The thought flits through Rose’s mind that she may have cause to regret the roughness before the day ends. Just before Rose’s tongue plunges into Mari’s mouth, Mari thinks, “Oh you little bitch, you will pay for that.” Hands roam over silky skin; hips move in undulating unison. Their legs scissor together, silky thighs grinding into well-lubricated vulva. Their moans become louder and more primal; the pungent scent of female musk wafts into the crisp mountain air. So engrossed are they in their explorations that they do not notice the heavy footfalls that stop at the doorway from the house.

Andrew stands in the doorway and smiles down at his girls expressing the overwhelming, raw sensuality that drives them both. “So,” he silently muses, “the sweet little sluts are feeling playful this afternoon.” He clears his throat and chuckles to see them both jump, “Is this a sluts-only party, or can anyone come?”

Both girls redden and begin to disentangle their legs to greet their adored Master properly, on their knees. Andrew grins and dismisses their hasty attempts at apologies, “No one said to stop.” With only a moment’s hesitant confusion, they dive back into each other’s mouths. Andrew chuckles again, “Such enthusiastic sluts.” He helps himself to a glass of iced tea, making certain to take it from Rose’s pitcher, and settles himself into a large Adirondack chair. He opens a book on his lap and pretends to read, while glancing surreptitiously at his girls. He ponders which one should be alpha in the activities he has planned for the afternoon.

He rises from his chair and walks slowly around the chaise. He stops at the head of the chaise and strokes both girls hair tenderly, “Such good, beautiful sluts.” He smiles at the tremors that run through the girls at his touch and strolls back to his chair to take up his book again.

Andrew watches the two bodies — so different, yet each with its own particular enchantment — move together for a few minutes. He can tell that Mari is getting closer to her release from the slight tension and quivering in the backs of her thighs; Rose knows it, too. She steadily increases the pressure of her thigh on Mari’s grinding slit. At the same time, Rose grasps Mari firmly by the hair and pulls her head back to gaze deeply into her eyes, “Mmmmmmmmmmmm, yesss, cum for me, please, oh please!” The soft, plaintive, little-girl note in Rose’s voice is distinctly at odds with the fervor evident when she drops her head to suckle the sweet milk from one of Mari’s generous breasts.

Andrew finds himself unable to keep his seat, when Mari’s body begins to shudder and convulse. He rises and takes an ice cube from his drink and runs it firmly up and down the crack of Mari’s spasming ass. A hoarse cry tears from Mari’s throat while waves of pleasure ripple through her; one hand goes to the back of Rose’s head and presses the tiny woman’s mouth more firmly onto the spraying nipple. Mari’s generous curves convulse one last time and Andrew returns to his chair.

Mari’s lips spill soft, dreamy whimpers as Rose’s mouth moves from one leaking nipple to the other, teeth occasionally grazing the pebbly flesh. Andrew shifts uncomfortably in his chair; the soft suckling sounds and scents that drift on the air are definitely starting to get to him. He rises again and lands a sharp slap on a day-old welt on Rose’s thigh. Her guttural gasp is muffled against the ripe curves of Mari’s breast. Rose’s gaping cunt grinding on Mari’s thigh makes a soft squishing sound as it releases a gush of juices; the petite frame trembles as the ecstasy of orgasm courses through her mind and body.

By the time Rose is still again, nuzzling and lapping at Mari’s mounds, Andrew is already seated again, smiling at the glow of pleasure that radiates from both his slaves. As they lay there, basking in their pleasure, stroking and caressing each other’s tingling and trembling bodies, Andrew slaps the flat of his hand on the table by his chair. The auburn head and the raven one look up sharply; “Now, my sweet little sluts,” Andrew begins, a sardonic grin spreading across his face, “are you finally ready to pay proper attention to your Master?”

Mari and Rose giggle and disentangle their legs; they slip to all fours and crawl slowly to Master Andrew’s feet. In unison, they bend their heads and place their lips of the toes of the heavy boots. Gracefully, they rise and sit back on their heels — knees spread wide, hands resting on thighs, eyes demurely downcast, backs straight — the position that signals they are awaiting instructions. Master reaches into a drawer in the side table and takes out a short leash and extends it to Rose, “Rose, be a good girl and attach Mari to the table leg and then go fetch the grooming cart.”

“As Master wishes,” Rose murmurs, with a smile playing around her lips. She takes the leash and loops it around the table leg before attaching the clip to the “O” ring on Mari’s collar. Rose crawls backward for the space of three steps before rising and turning to enter the house.

Andrew’s fingers idly play in the in Mari’s shining auburn waves, “Remove my boots, Mari.” She bent down and grasped the tips of one shoelace in her teeth and pulled, releasing the bow. Her teeth went to the knot and released it. Still using the her teeth, she loosened the topmost crossings of the lace. She shifted, almost at the end of her leash, to do the same to the other boot. Mari raised her head slightly, “Permission to use my hands now, please, Sir?”

Andrew nods and Mari eases the boots off his feet. She sets them aside; she will polish them to a mirror shine when time permits. Mari, knowing what the grooming cart means, rolls up Master Andrew’s pants legs and removes his socks — rolling them neatly and placing them on the toes of the boots. She bends and places her lips on each instep before settling back on her heels.

Rose is filling pitchers with hot water, and double checking that all the necessary items are on the cart. Her last act is to fill the massaging footbath with hot water. She adds a few drops of peppermint and eucalyptus oils to the steaming water. When she is satisfied that all the implements are arranged properly, Rose pushes the cart to the veranda. Together, Mari and Rose slide the footbath onto the floor; Rose scurries over to plug in the appliance while Mari is easing Master’s feet into the scented water. Mari turns the machine to the speed of pulsations that eases Master’s tension best. Master Andrew exhales in a low rumbling moan.

Rose is placing a small bowl s of warm water into the specially carved wells on each arm of the chair. She puts his hands in the water to soak. Andrew gives a pleasured sigh, his glance moving fondly from one girl to the other. Rose steps behind his chair and begins to massage his scalp; Mari takes a few drops of peppermint scented oil and warms it in her hands. Her palms and fingers begin slow soothing strokes up and down Master’s calves — kneading and probing for any pockets of tension. Andrew releases a contented growl as his eyes close.

Knowing that his hands and feet have soaked long enough, Rose and Mari move to the tasks of manicure and pedicure. Mari gently takes one foot from the bath and cradles it in her lap; she begins to gently slough the sole of the foot with small circles of a pumice stone. Her thumb and forefinger work gently on the Achilles tendon.

Rose kneels at the side of the chair and takes one of Andrew’s hands in both of hers. Intense concentration on her face, she begins to push the cuticles back. She runs each nail bed along the delicate skin on the underside of her breast, to make sure the work is smooth.

Mari, having finished with the pumice stone, takes up clippers and begins to shape the Andrew’s toenails. As she finishes each one, she uses an emery board to smooth the edges — also checking the finesse of her work with the silky skin on the underside of her continuously leaking tits. Rose takes up a small pair of cuticle scissors to trim his fingernails, taking special care that all are the same length from his fingertips. The emery board is used again to make sure there are no rough edges, with the usual check of the work.

In the midst of his groans of pleasure, Andrew says, “Drink.” Rose lays his hand down gently and takes up his glass in both hands, placing the straw between his lips. He drinks and waves the glass away.

Rose returns to kneeling and takes a few drops of oil into her hand. With surprisingly strong strokes, she kneads the palm in deep circles, working up and out to the fingertips.

Mari has also taken up more oil; her soft pliant fingers knead over the freshly pumiced soles — thumbs working deep into the instep, fingers massaging the top of the arch.

Andrew imagines what the scenario would look like to someone observing: a man– fully clothed save for his shoes and socks — being utterly pampered and spoiled by two long-haired, kneeling temptresses — both naked save for the collars around their soft throats and the heavy-linked curb chains around their delicate ankles. He knows that both faces glow with sensual delight in tending him this way; his senses reel with the pleasure that his doting sluts revel in giving him. He opens his eyes to look lovingly at his girls — Rose skillfully working the buffer on his fingernails; Mari finding every iota of tension in his foot. A contented peace suffuses his being.

Mari and Rose switch sides, giving the other hand and foot the same detailed, intensive attention. Andrew is all but purring with relaxation; Rose rises and takes a hot towel from the insulated ice bucket on the tray and winds it round the lower half of his face. Mari continues to Andrew’s feet, sliding the foot bath out of the way, moving from one foot to the other.

Rose takes up the mug with the shaving soap and adds a bit of hot water from an insulated pitcher. She works the brush vigorously in the mug, whipping up a creamy rich lather. Mari and Rose share a secret smile at Andrew’s soft sighs of pleasure — not so very different than the sounds they were making on the chaise earlier.

Mari’s hands move up to work the tendons at the back of Andrew’s knees. Rose applies the lather to his face with the brush and sets the mug aside. While the lather softens his beard, Rose rakes her fingernails lightly over Andrew’s scalp.

Mari’s kneading fingers continue to work on Master’s calves and feet. Rose takes up the razor and begins to shave the face of the Man who owner her body and soul. Her sure quick strokes with the blade remove all the lather and stubble. Taking another hot towel, she wipes the last traces of lather and rubs one erect pink nipple over the freshly shaved skin, searching for any missed spots.

Mari taps Master Andrew’s knee and asks,”May i please tend your boots now, Master?” Andrew gives a brief relaxed nod; Mari places a small goose down pillow under his feet and takes the shoe shine box from the cart. Rose whispered, “Chin down please, Master.” Andrew rests his chin on his chest and sighs. Rose applies a bit of lather to the just slightly straggly hairline on the back of his neck. The tip of her tongue peeks out the side of her mouth in concentration; using tiny, precise strokes she evens up the hair to a rigid straight line — just the way she knows he likes. Another warm towel wipes the excess lather away.

Mari is studiously applying the black paste polish to the boot leather in tiny concentrated circles. Rose slips a small cushion behind Master’s neck and head. She begins to gather the assorted tools and towels they have used. The footbath is emptied over the side rail of the veranda and slid back on the lowest shelf of the tiered cart.

Andrew floats in a haze of contentment and relaxation, listen to his girls bustle about. Mari is putting a final gloss on his boots; Rose is making certain the cart will be ready for tomorrow. The slight nip in the air and scent of the pine invigorate his senses. “Drink,” he murmurs. Almost immediately, the straw touches his lips. He takes a deep sip, savoring the tiny bit of mint that Rose likes in her tea. He breathes in deeply and exhales with a low rumble of pleasure. He reflects that he is spoiled in a way that very few men would begin to understand. He opens his eyes and motions Mari and Rose to the floor at his feet. With a loving hand on each head, he smiles, “My sweet, lovely girls. Mari, I need a place to rest my feet while Rose makes dinner.”

In unison the girls reply, “Yes, Master Andrew.”

Mary gets on all fours; Rose lifts Master’s legs and places his feet on Mari’s back. Rose asks, “Does Master have a preference for dinner.”
Reaching for his book, Andrew waves away the question, “Surprise me.” Rose nods and presses her lips to the instep of his foot, before brushing a tender kiss on Mari’s cheek. Rose backs away on her hands and knees, then rises and heads for the kitchen, pushing the grooming cart. Mari kneels calmly , joyously accepting the weight of his feet on her back. Andrew reads and sips iced tea, dimly aware of the sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen.

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