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He stopped her with a hand on her head. She
drew back, almost disappointed. Hadn’t he liked what she did?

John sat heavily on the side of the bed
and, with a simple gesture, beckoned Lauren to take a position between his
knees. She obeyed without hesitation. Giving blowjobs wasn’t hard and she liked
to think she had some skill. In fact, she liked giving them. John’s size raised
some concerns, but then again, a challenge never daunted her.

“Mouth only,” he told her. “No hands.”

Nodding, she stared at his cock a moment as
if trying to decide her best course of action. Locking her hands behind her
back, she leaned forward, using her nose to raise his cock so she could get to
the underside.

She definitely liked his scent. For a
moment, she paused there, just inhaling, letting her exhaled breath warm his
skin. Then, with a second long, slow lick, she traced a path along the bottom
of his shaft from the base all the way to the tip, where she again paused, his
cock resting on her tongue as her breath teased him. Her reward came when he
sank a little lower on the bed.

Encircling the tip with her lips, she
lightly closed on his sensitive flesh, using her tongue to explore the
wine-dark skin. So hard yet so soft to the touch. Her eyes closed as her tongue
delivered information that made her long for a more intimate exploration.

His slit filled with the white precursor to
his ejaculation. She felt it form on her tongue and licked it away, eager for a
more specific taste of him. He groaned and her eyes flew open to make sure he
was all right. Then his hand rested on top of her head and she settled into her
task once more.

Using small bobbing motions, she now
quickened her movements, craving more of his taste. She dug her fingernails
into the opposite elbows behind her back to keep from bringing her hands into
play, she yearned to cup his balls and give them a squeeze. Her lips moved over
the ridge of skin that separated tip from cock and her tongue darted over and
around the rounded end.

His breathing deepened. She was fully into
her task, taking her cues from his small movements. Again her pace quickened.

She couldn’t take all of him in her mouth,
she knew that. But she could take some and now she did, lowering her mouth to
go as deeply as she could. His hand on her head urged her deeper. Taking a deep
breath, she pushed forward, feeling his cock hit the back of her throat. From
somewhere deep inside her came an overwhelming desire to serve. She wanted him
to use her for his own satisfaction. She wanted to be worthy of him.

She pulled back, rubbing her lips over that
wonderful ridge again. Once, slow and easy, twice a little quicker, three, four
and five times in quick succession before grabbing another breath and plunging
him deep into her throat again and again and again.

“Use your hands and accept my cum.”

His words, urgent and low, penetrated her
concentration. Without hesitation, she brought her hands up, one to cup his
wonderful sac, the other to rub the skin of his shaft. Keeping her mouth
rubbing over the tip of his cock, she urged him forward, faster and faster.

Salty liquid touched her tongue, his cum
spurting out faster than she could keep up with. Keeping her mouth open, she
let him fill it, closing to swallow and opening for more like a bird being fed.
Cum covered her chin, her nose, her cheeks. It dripped down to land on her
breasts and yet she didn’t move, wanting every last drop. Gently giving his
balls a squeeze, she captured the last drops with her tongue before licking the
cock head clean of all traces.

Her movements, slow and quiet now, brought
him down. She leaned back to watch the last vestiges of his orgasm. His eyes
opened on her, lazy and sated. Lauren smiled shyly. “You liked?”

“You have a talented mouth.”

Inside a small pleasure blossomed. Over the
years she’d given blowjobs, but not one of the men she’d given that gift to had
called her mouth “talented”. She found she actually felt pride for that talent.

“Go and get a warm washcloth from the
bathroom. Bring it here and finish cleaning me.”

She stood, her muscles protesting slightly
at the unaccustomed use they’d been getting. Ignoring the small discomfort,
Lauren gave him a small bow and a smile before turning to do his bidding. A
large mirror hung over the sink and as she let the water run, she took a good,
long look at herself. Her hair caught in and stuck to the cum along the side of
her cheek. While she’d swallowed what she could, John was nothing if not
prolific and her face, neck and breasts were plastered in white cum. Making no
attempt to clean herself, she wet the washcloth and wrung it out. This must be
the D/s part, she mused. Not only doing what he told her, but putting his needs
first.

She padded back to the bedroom, fully aware
that she did so naked and covered in his cum. Deciding that felt sexy, she
entered the room with a smile on her face.

John watched her clean him, his cum still
covering her where it had fallen. Lauren positively glowed in the aftermath of
what he’d done to her. For her. With her. Deciding all those prepositions fit,
he took the washcloth from her hands. Raising her up on her knees, he palmed
the cloth and started at her forehead.

The look of surprise almost broke his
heart. Did no one ever treat her like the precious gem she was? He washed her
face, turning the cloth over, capturing all his now-cold cum inside. When her
cheek turned into his touch, he set his free hand on the other side of her
face, his thumb running over the soft skin of her cheekbone.

Neither spoke as he cleaned her neck and
breasts. When he finished, she took the cloth from him and stood, again giving
him that little bow of obeisance. The first time he thought she was just
playing along. This time he realized she meant it. He watched her as she left
to take it to the bathroom, loving the way the marks of the ropes still lined
her skin.

Not for the first time he considered
whether Lauren might be more than just a partner in play. Yes, her overseas
duties had damaged her. Yes, she still worked to adjust to life back here in
the States. Yes, he had fallen in love with her.

When had it happened? When she’d had the
panic attack in the parking lot? When she’d gotten up to sing at the pub? This
afternoon when she’d shown up despite not really understanding what she was in
for? Yes, to all of the above.

She walked into the room and knelt before
him once more, her eyes still shining. He cupped her cheek with his hand again,
loving her for it. With a fluid motion, he ran his palm along her arm to take
her hand. “Come, I want you in my arms.” He pulled her up as he stood. Without
hesitation, her arms went around his neck. Their lips met in a wonderful kiss
of mutual contentment and John ended it only to swing her up into his arms. At
her small cry of surprise, he grinned.

“You really are one hell of a woman, Ms.
Lauren.”

“And you, Mr. McAllen, are one hell of a
man.”

He kissed her once more before throwing her
onto the bed. She squealed and giggled as he jumped on right beside her.
Grabbing the comforter, he pulled it over them then once more pulled her into
his arms, knowing he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

* * * * *

They lay together for over an hour,
occasionally chatting about little things, but mostly just enjoying the
companionable silence. Lauren basked in the quiet, listening to the strong
sound of John’s heartbeat, watching the rise and fall of his chest, reveling in
the feel of skin on skin. Her hand absently caressed the fine hairs on his
upper chest, loving the feel of muscle underneath.

The noises of the neighborhood came in
through the open window, regular, everyday sounds that made Lauren smile.
Somewhere a lawnmower worked to trim a postage-stamp-sized yard, kids had
gotten up a game of kickball in the middle of the street, and—she
sniffed—somewhere close someone barbecued. As if sparked by the wonderful
aroma, her stomach growled.

“Sounds like the slave girl is hungry,”
John commented, his eyes still closed. Lauren liked how deep his voice became
after an afternoon of sex.

“She is. Is the harem Master also hungry?”
she teased.

“I have no harem. I keep only one slave at
a time.”

“At a time, hmm? Never been tempted for
two-on-one?”

At that he chuckled and opened one eye.
“There isn’t a man alive who would say no to that.”

She grinned and turned so her back rested
against his side. “To be expected. I doubt there’s a woman alive who’d say no
to being serviced by two men either.”

John came up on one elbow and Lauren
twisted to see him.

“Is that something you might like to do
someday? Invite another man in to play with you along with me?”

Lauren hadn’t really considered it but his
words sent a shiver straight to her pussy. Yeah, she’d like to do that. She’d
like to do a whole lot more with Big John. In fact, the more she thought about
it, the hornier she got. Her blush gave her away and he chuckled.

“Then when you’re ready, I will make it
so.”

“Don’t suppose you’d make something else so
right now?” She rolled onto her back and ran her foot up and down his leg in a
very suggestive move.

He raised an eyebrow and slipped his hand
between her legs. Without compunction, she spread them wider to give him access,
knowing what he would find. John laughed out loud when his fingers discovered
what his suggestion had done to her.

“So the proper woman hides a slut inside.”

Lauren blushed, knowing she should be
ashamed instead of feeling a flush of pride. “If being a fully formed, sexual
creature is being a slut, then yes, I am.”

He brought his wet fingers up to rub them
gently over her lips. Bending, he whispered something softly, following it with
a tender kiss.

Lauren’s thoughts swirled. Had he whispered
what she thought? She wanted to break the kiss and ask and yet, what if she
were wrong? He deepened the kiss and she met him, passion for passion, her
heart already knowing what her mind had just figured out.

His fingers plunged between her labia,
sliding over her clit and past it, then back again, bringing up the juices from
her now-very-wet pussy to rub them over her clit. Lauren would’ve gasped, but
his lips still held hers. His tongue danced over hers, invading her as his
fingers invaded her pussy, pressing in deep. She writhed under him, his thumb
on her clit and his fingers in her vagina, his tongue possessing her mouth just
as his hand possessed her pussy. With a small cry, she came for him.

He released her, wiping his wet fingers on
her hip. She got up on her elbows and looked at him with admiration mixed with
disbelief. “How many was that you got out of me today?”

“Seven.”

“Hot damn.”

Her stomach growled again, and John
laughed. “Okay, slave-girl-slash-slut-slash—what was it you called
yourself—‘fully formed, sexual woman’? I’m hungry too. Care to join me for
dinner?”

“You bet! Apparently one works up an
appetite after several hours of unremitting sex.”

“Go take your shower. I’d join you, but I
think we’d have sex again and then we’d never get to dinner.”

She laughed and made for the shower. “Think
it would be an excellent diet plan.”

In the bathroom Lauren looked at herself in
the large mirror. Her hair hung in a disheveled mess and her cheeks bloomed
with color. The rope marks had faded for the most part and only a trace of
color remained where her breasts had been tied, along with a few spots where
he’d missed in cleaning up his cum. A small brush lay beside the sink and
Lauren ran it through her hair, untangling it some before jumping in the shower
for a full wash.

As the water splashed over her body, Lauren
turned over the words she now felt sure he’d said just before giving her that
last orgasm. Orgasm? Her thoughts derailed. Seven orgasms? Really? She ducked
her head under the water in an attempt to refocus her thoughts.

John definitely had her attention. Life
with him would never be dull, Lauren knew that much. He might be a history
teacher by day, but by night? The man was one magnificent hunk o’ burning
flesh, that was for sure.

She tried to imagine what life would be
like with him as she washed her hair. He’d said they’d find their spot along
the Master/slave continuum and then he’d playfully referred to her as his
“slave girl”. She liked that. That he’d said it in play, that was, not that she
was a slave. Could she go that far? Maybe someday, but no way was she ready
yet.

Finished, she toweled dry, wrapped one
towel around her hair to keep it out of her face and another around her middle
as she ventured back to his bedroom. As she flipped off the bathroom light, she
mused on those whispered words once more. If only she could be sure of what
he’d said. For her heart very much wanted the words to be what she thought
she’d heard, “I love you.”

Chapter Thirteen

“I have steaks in the fridge,” John told
her as he passed her on his way to take his shower. “If you don’t mind, would
you take them out? And the vegetables for grilling.”