The Morning Light

Chapter 1 - Timmy begins this tale by wallowing in submission.-1

Chapter 1 - Timmy begins this tale by wallowing in submission.The morning light glinted off the framed pictures. The harsh glare told Timmy that he had slept late. He needed to be up, scrubbed, and ready for Madame’s expected visit. And she was most definitely expected.

What was plainly visible around Timmy's right ankle was a locked sheepskin-lined leather cuff: sturdy black leather, accented with the shiny steel of a serious lock. And to the cuff was attached a thin, black chain that snaked away to some kind of retractable coiling thingy anchored on the wall of the kitchenette.

The chain was clearly long enough to allow Timmy to go anywhere inside the cottage that his wife had assigned to him as living quarters. It was situated across a flagstone patio from Madame’s gracious, spacious home. The house was wrapped around the crest of the hill enclosing something of an open, yet private courtyard.

Timmy had been locked in his quarters for almost twenty-four hours. Madame felt it best that Timmy be kept securely out of the way while she entertained overnight guests.

As soon as he finished drying off his lanky body after his shower, Timmy carefully picked up his chain and proceeded to the small coffee bar to begin the preparation of Madame's coffee service. She liked her coffee strong and black, prepared with fresh ground Arabica beans, steeped in a glass French press.

After carefully measuring the coffee scoop – Madame could be very demanding if the coffee was not made exactly to her standards – Timmy turned to flip the switch on the electric kettle. As the kettle began its soft murmur, his concentration was interrupted by the sound of the gate alarm, indicating that someone was leaving the property. The sound jolted him into a vision of Madame sprawled across her California King as an imaginary, powerfully-built man exited the bedroom. But it was only a vision. Timmy really had no idea who the overnight guest had been, or what Madame had been doing, or why. She could, on occasion, especially when dealing with new suitors, be quite private.

Although this time, given the anxious attention that Madame had given to making sure her home was in perfect order, she most likely had a suitor she wished to impress. The flowers had been arranged just as she liked them, and more significantly she had insisted the sheets on her bed be clean and fresh smelling. Timmy himself had lightly spritzed them with the sultry lavender scent she favored. So it seemed likely to him that the seduction of a new lover was well underway, and indeed, was likely consummated already.

The thought, the vision, and the anticipation of Madame's eventual arrival excited the tall silver-haired man. Hopefully she would soon release him from his current confinement. Timmy looked down at the securely locked cuff and the contrast between the cold reality of the steel lock and the luscious, erotic vision of Madame in the throes of s****l ecstasy, somehow mysteriously, yet forcefully, resulted in a full erection complete with a small drop of moisture forming at the tip of his c**k. Slave tears is what Madame called them.

But perhaps Madame was still asleep, luxuriating in the afterglow. It could be hours before she awoke and came to release him. Or perhaps she might come in a few minutes. He just didn't know. In any case, everything was prepared for her eagerly anticipated arrival. He could do nothing now but walk to the end of his chain and gaze out the window across the patio and stare at the curtained windows of her bedroom.

A gasp escaped his lips as suddenly the door to the patio opened and the vision of his Goddess, and owner, became real. She took a few steps into the patio letting the morning sun silhouette her figure through the filmy white gauze that draped her luscious figure. Even from across the patio he could see the pink, erect n*****s of her ample breasts from which the gown hung so gracefully. The hem swayed as she stepped carefully around the pool in the warm California spring sun. As she approached, the dark enticing shadow below her slim waist only served to accentuate the sexy rotation of her hips as she strode confidently forward toward his locked door.

He could not suppress the strong, up-welling yearning that caused his already hardened c**k to lengthen even more. Finally, she was coming to release him and perhaps, just perhaps, she would grant him some much-needed s****l relief.

Being confined, perversely, made him want her even more. That she may have shared her body with another man did nothing to dampen his desire. On the contrary, it inflamed his lust which raged in concert with the pain, shame, and humiliation of being forced to wait patiently while another man enjoyed the attentions of a truly magnificent woman – a woman who, at this moment, was in full control of her life, her sexuality, and most importantly for Timmy, her slave.

For that was what Timmy had become, a slave, her slave. It had not always been so, and somewhere in his tormented soul, he vainly hoped that he would somehow, someday, break free of the invisible ropes that bound him to her command. But that would not be this morning, no, not today. Today he knew that if she allowed he would abjectly crawl between those perfectly shaped calves and thighs with their flawless skin and worship at the golden p***y of his Mistress. If he was lucky, that is.

As she voluptuously walked across the flagstone patio, she reveled in the caress of a light breeze in the full sun as she approached the door to his small quarters. Timmy glanced furtively at the black, well-worn horsewoman's riding crop that hung with quiet menace beside the door. The very door that would soon open after a full day of confinement and deliver him into either a hazy bliss of s****l crescendo, or plunge him into an agony of pain and denial – a future that was entirely at Madame's whim. And her whim alone.

With unhurried practice, Madame entered the code on the key pad that silenced the alarm that would otherwise scream if the door was opened, and she entered her slave’s little living room. She looked him over as if to confirm that all was in good order, and spoke a single word, “Coffee!” Timmy virtually leaped to the kettle and instantly added the boiling water to the coffee press where it would steep for the two minutes needed to achieve the exact strength Madame preferred.

As they waited in silence, Madame took her customary place in the large, comfortable armchair that dominated the room. The chair, which was by long habit reserved exclusively for the use of the owner of the tile-roofed, mission style manor that commanded the crest of the hill. From her chair, Madame could look out over the chaparral-covered foothills to the intense blue of the Pacific Ocean in the hazy distance.

Madame loved the view from this chair and never tired of looking at it, especially when her slave was properly occupied between her thighs, worshiping at the cunt that had come to rule his life. Cumming on that well-trained tongue, while surveying the stunning home she had worked so hard to perfect, was her deepest, most satisfying pleasure. And this was a woman who knew pleasure, because she had made pleasure, at this point in time, the central purpose of her existence.

She knew, of course, that pleasure cheaply obtained could never match the deep satisfaction of achieving something that was difficult to get. Something that required the full application of her intelligence, her skills, and her beauty. She knew the pleasure would be all the sweeter, the longer and harder she had to work to achieve it. And so it was on this morning, as she savored the rich aroma of brewing coffee, that she allowed herself to revel and smile and fondle the thought of what she had achieved just last night. It was delicious! It was deeply satisfying – an almost perfect culmination to months of plotting, scheming, deceiving, and most importantly – seducing. Ahhh! Such sweet, creamy thoughts.

But her reveries could wait a bit. First, the coffee! She accepted the mug and took the first small sip. That would tell her whether Timmy had again succeeded, or whether he would need just a tad more discipline, firmly applied, to teach him to focus properly on producing the perfect cup of coffee – a brewed masterpiece that would satisfy and please his demanding owner.

But today, this morning, she was in such a good mood that she only nodded at him and gestured that he was to quickly take his place kneeling before her chair with his face held politely just inches away from her still gooey and aromatic p***y. There he would stay until given permission to reach out with his long, flexible tongue and begin the journey that would end only when his Mistress gushed her c****x and pushed him away with a casual heel pressed into his shoulder.

“Oh, Timmy, it was incredible, wild, unbelievable! Oh, I wish you could have seen him lusting and thrashing around after my p***y. He wanted it so badly. Oh, god, I loved it! It was perfect! But you, you have to be gentle now. Mommy’s p***y is kind of sore. I want a nice, easy, slow licking from you right now. Get that pretty face of yours in there and clean it up. Soothe the lips and suck out the love cream we left for you. But don’t you do your usual hard tongue thrashing of my little love bud! Not this morning. Do you hear me?”

From his place, just inches from his Mistress’s cunt, Timmy looked up past her incredible t**s and into her hooded eyes. Not trusting himself to speak, given the tug of the chain on his leg, and the fullness of what used to be called his “manhood”, he only nodded and closed the gap. He eagerly took the first full taste of the white, creamy drool that was oozing from her puffy, wide open p***y. Hopelessly and irresistibly, he felt himself slide down the chasm of ecstasy, reveling in his abject and total surrender to the superiority of the feminine. His full c**k was pulsing, his taste exploding, the aroma was dizzying. He let his submission expand to envelop everything in this sweet delicious moment. He was owned, and at this moment, felt – what? Could it be called true love?

Hardly, thought Timmy as their mutual ardor cooled following the deep growl and clenching pulses of Madame’s o****m. The o****m that had been evoked by the sucking and licking applied with Timmy's usual vigor directly onto the overly sensitive c******s. “You bad boy!” Madame said through a satisfied smile. “What am I going to do with you?” She asked gently. Then she let out a pleased laugh while shaking her head from side to side, “But you are good at it, boy, no doubt about that, so this time I will forgive you, you silly puppy.”

Timmy sat back on his heels as his c**k began to droop and relax. As Madame rose, he followed her with his eyes. He saw the filmy gauze slide down over her full hips, cover her still pink and puffy p***y, and finally drop slowly to graze the floor.

As Madame stood, she met his eyes, and held them. She said, “Oh darn, I forgot your key didn’t I? Shoot! Well, no matter, I'll come back and let you out …. later.” She soaked up the fear, anger, submission, and lust that she saw in his eyes. She knew how much he hated to be confined. It was, for him, almost unbearable. He was a man of action, always out and about. Here and there, stirring things up. But not at the moment. At the moment he was on his knees with a shrinking hard-on staring up at his wife while desperately hoping that she would have pity. Let him free, or if not that, let him c*m. Something.

He had been in these tiny quarters for it seemed like forever. No Internet allowed. Nothing to do except the endless alterations that Madame was always wanting for her ball gowns, her lingerie, her endless dresses, skirts and tops of all colors and styles. He needed to be released, and she knew it.