The Morning Light

Chapter 1 - Timmy begins this tale by wallowing in submission.-2

A torrent of emotion was also plainly visible in Madame’s eyes. She knew she was being totally unreasonably cruel, and it scared her and excited her in equal measure. Could she really be so vicious to him. Is that what he really needed? Would he accept this from her? Did he love and worship her enough? And why, oh why, was her well-used and satisfied cunt getting so excited and so eager yet again?

God! She loved, loved, loved, owning a slave. What fun! And always new and challenging. So, nothing for it, Timmy was to be confined and suffer simply because she thought it might be fun. At least for her.

As she stepped to the door, she looked back over her shoulder and said, “Did you finish the alterations on the hem line of the shimmery blue thing I want to wear this Sunday?” Without waiting for a reply, knowing that Timmy had been well-enough trained to understand an order when he heard one, she continued, “Oh, and Miriam wants you to come into the office tomorrow at two. She said she has some papers you need to sign and she wants to discuss implementing some new ideas she has. We’ll talk about it later.”

And with that, she stepped out the door, entered the code to set the alarm, sauntered back around the pool and slid quietly through the patio door of her magnificent bedroom. A nap is what Madame needed. A night of tumultuous triumph and a morning of tantalizing pleasure called for a long, hot bath followed by an hour’s nap. Timmy could wait, she had all afternoon free. But for now, the sweet pleasure of healthful, comfortable sleep awaited.

But for Timmy, reality was not a peaceful sleep, but rather a mocking, robotic voice telling him that “The system alarm has been activated. Exit now!” But he could not “exit now” because he was chained, plus he didn’t know the code. But the voice did make him look at the door that Mistress had just exited. And there on the tile floor, just inside the door, was a crumpled, silky, delicate mound of fuchsia fabric. Timmy knew instantly what it was. Something Madame had left for him, something she knew he would enjoy. Her worn, hip hugging, nearly transparent, fuchsia panties. The ones with the generous lace side panels that framed her prominent p***y mound. The very ones he loved the best.

What they meant to Timmy was that she accepted him, that he was being given permission to j******f. To satisfy his intense submissive needs by cumming into her panties and wallowing in the extreme humiliation of knowing another man had just finished f*****g her open p***y.

A wave of gratitude swept over him as he snatched up the fragrant panties, thus revealing that they had concealed three knotted, dirty yellow, latex condoms. Condoms bulging with somebody else's c*m. Timmy’s eyes widened as the meaning of those three used condoms sunk in. And then, Timmy's c**k began to rise, followed by a pang of shame and humiliation. He fell to his knees in an agony of cuckold emotion, crushed the panties over his nose and breathed in deeply the aroma of his owner, so strong, so intense!

And as his c**k raised in tribute to his Mistress, he grabbed it with his right hand just below the head, and pumped down hard, and again, and again. As his hips thrust that needy c**k upward into the air, the pulses so long denied swept over him. Out of him shot into the empty air his watery c*m. It splattered all over the white porcelain of the tile floor just inside the door. The very door where the real, living, vibrating wife had just exited.

The force of his long-denied ejaculation threw Timmy back against the kitchenette counter. As he sat there, a short wave of deep peace passed through him. And as his spent c**k slowly deflated, he felt a deep gratitude for the love his wife had just shown him. Gratitude for a loving gift of dirty panties and three used condoms.

They were spread out in an arc in front of his eyes. The fuchsia panties. The three condoms. And the splattered mess of Timmy's runny c*m. Suddenly, perhaps because of the loss of libido after his ejaculation, Timmy seemed to have a choice. He could let himself wallow in feelings of extreme submission, or he could fight it, and go to the other room and try to read. But there was no choice really, Timmy loved these opportunities, when no one was watching, to push his submission to deeper, more perverted depths. To do things that his Mistress was not yet ready to command, things she hadn't yet thought of, or things she might even think were sick or stupid or dumb.

With eyes fixed firmly on the three condoms, Timmy licked and licked until all of his c*m was consumed. Then he picked up each of the condoms in turn and put them in his mouth. Chewed through them to release the c*m and let it slide down his accepting throat. “Oh Jesus, Mistress, oh god you did it last night! God, I love it when you rub my sissy face in your lover’s c*m. You own me completely and I am your slave.”

Timmy had spoken aloud in full voice as he grabbed his c**k and began another urgent run to a splurge. However, in an instant Timmy's fist opened and sprang away from his swaying c**k. NO! Mistress allowed Timmy only one cummy at a time. But it was too late, his slave drool was already at the tip of his p***s. So all Timmy accomplished was to subvert the s****l intensity and reduce the explosion to the pitiful soft dribble of a ruined o****m. Out of the tip of his sensitive c**k, the oozing c*m just dripped down slowly onto the antiseptic white tile floor.

So nothing for it, fun and games over for a bit. Take a deep breath. Get up and get back to hemming the voluminous skirt of the shimmery blue ball gown. Something Timmy was finally learning to do competently. Or at least competently enough to avoid having Madame insist on a redo, followed by a session over her strapping bench. Truth be told, he was beginning to take some small pride in being allowed to tend to Madame’s mending and alterations.

At the same time, in his Mistress’s delightful bedroom, Madame was not sleeping peacefully as she had planned. Nor had she yet slid into the scented bath. What she was doing was thinking about the same three condoms that had so humiliated and excited Timmy.

No sooner had she entered her boudoir than her white iPhone signaled a text had arrived. Madame glanced at it and chuckled quietly. It was from Winston Oberhauser King III. The very same that had left her bedroom satisfied and fulfilled not an hour before. He was at the airport awaiting his boss’s jet to drop out of the sky and pick him up for the short hop back to Phoenix and a long day at the office. But as he saw it, etiquette demanded a thank you for the three mind-blowing ejaculations he had amazingly achieved. Three! He couldn’t remember if that had ever happened before. Certainly never with his wife, but then his wife was not June Bracken, was she?

How long had he been flirting with June? Not as long as the time he had been lusting after her from afar. He had known who she was for several years now. She was the socially connected wife of that successful tech entrepreneur, Timothy Bracken. They had progressed from casual banter at social events, to some mild email exchanges, then through some very hot and frequent texts to last night’s romp in, on, and around her glorious California King. The bed was dressed in a deep wine colored duvet, with a profusion of pillows and cushions thrown around, offering comfort and ease. The bed was the unabashed centerpiece of the huge, almost recreational, bedroom. The room was complete with bar, refrigerator, mirrors, lounges, music and an enormous television which they never even glanced at. It passed Winston’s mind that he could live here and be her captive and never have to leave.

The text that was making Madame smile was almost shy, and sheepish. Thanking her for a ‘lovely’ experience. “Lovely?” she thought with a snort. “Lovely!” Not exactly the word she was hoping for. It didn’t do justice to the fact that her p***y was still vibrating from the pounding it had received from his quite impressive c**k. Or was that tingle down there the aftershocks from Timmy's exuberant tongue. Or maybe even the thrill of rubbing her big-shot husband’s nose in her freedom and his s*****y. But, no matter the cause, her tingling p***y deserved a more poetic word than, ‘lovely’.

But after a pause she replied in kind, “Yes, it was quite lovely. Perhaps we can do it again soon. Only next time we should include a messy, sloppy, blow job.” His reply was instant, “Yes, Yes, Yes!!!!” Humph, snorted Madame, better, but not nearly the level of verbal sophistication she required. Oh well, he did have quite a nice c**k, and he did have the intensity of need she enjoyed. So she would send him on his way with a promise and a hope. Who knows, maybe a weekend trip to the Biltmore in Phoenix would be fun. She could make Timmy take her and help her get settled in her suite, and then send him on his way to stay at a very nice Motel 6 nearby. Now that would be a ‘lovely’ way to use a slave! After all, why put up with the bother and responsibility of having a slave husband, if he couldn’t be useful. She laughed out loud at herself.

But, to give him credit, Winston did leave her the three full condoms in her bedside waste basket. He had looked a little alarmed and abashed after his first c*m, so she simply demanded, “Give me that condom!” and raised her hand high over the basket and let it plop into the trash. She smiled in delight, and said, “One down, lover, but little Junie wants more.” And so it became a challenge and a game, and each plop into the basket was a triumph. And thus she had collected the condoms that she used to drive Timmy’s cuckold angst to higher and higher levels. What fun, indeed!

And the real kicker? During that last run to his spurt, which took him much longer than it had earlier, his straining, sweating, and thrusting got much more vigorous. That caused his big c**k to pull and twist her c**t in such a way that a little final grind in a circular motion right on her button, spilled her over the edge to her own o****m. The clenching of her cunt as she cascaded into bliss was the trigger that caused Winston to pump his last reserves of semen into the tip of the Silky Light condom. The very condom she had handed him gracefully, in her exquisite formal living room, earlier that evening. She intended to let him know, in no uncertain terms, that he was welcome – to f**k her! But condoms would be required.

And that was the memory she was savoring at the exact moment that Timmy was slipping the used condoms into his slutty mouth.

If the cosmos were truthful, it would have to agree that that particular moment of simultaneity in the fabric of Space/Time was significant. For at that moment, an elastic tether was bolted between a woman and a man so that they would be bound as one. United in their need, one to submit, and one to dominate. A simple harmonious yang to complete her yin. One to serve, one to be served. One to own, one to be owned. What could be more natural?