middle, I devoured her pretty little asshole, relishing her squeals of joy.
Her ass properly prepared, I mounted her, pressing the head of my cock against her, pushing slowly in. I only went in about a quarter of my total length, seeing as we didn’t have the benefit of lube. Snugly inside her, I started to move, making her feel every inch. Morgan moaned accordingly.
When I was sure I was ready, I started going harder, working up to a good solid rhythm. Morgan squirmed and moaned beneath me.
“Yes, Master! Please. Fuck my asshole!”
I started going harder, Morgan screaming out in joy. I put a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, my more traditional ball-gag not available.
It didn’t take long. Morgan’s entire small frame vibrated with an orgasm just as I got ready to unleash a relentless torrent of cum into her ass, making her raise her head from the superbly carpeted floor and human contentment.
I eased out as slowly as I could, careful not to hurt her. It was usually initial penetration and withdrawal where bad things happened. Gathering Morgan into my mighty arms, I carried her toward the warm, mineral bath.
Chapter Twelve - Morgan
It was a strange bliss. The mix of pleasure was so intense it was almost pain, and there was also pain so gentle and loving it felt like pleasure. There really was little difference between them in the grand scheme.
Adam, my master, he knew all about that. He had mastered it and was sharing that knowledge with me. I felt blessed.
The whirling came on suddenly. I sat bolt upright in the bed, wondering what the hell was going on.
“It's the blinds, pet, they're on a timer,” Adam said, not opening his eyes.
“Oh.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“A bit.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Slipping silently from his bed like a sleepy ninja, he moved with uncommon grace to the door, clad only in a pair of fleece pants. I somehow doubted they would want to broadcast how he looked right then. The extent of his tattoos were beyond what would fit inside the minds of most people.
Then again, that was probably the point. I admittedly hadn’t known Adam Leary for very long and yet had gotten the impression that he was the sort who was very good at following the letter of the law while still smashing the spirit to smithereens.
“Who are you talking to?” I asked, coming into the kitchen after hearing what sounded like him talking to himself.
“The producers, mostly. It is a game I like to play. I doubt they'll broadcast any of the footage of me cooking. Not only because it might well be considered boring. My mad culinary skills notwithstanding. What are you doing here?”
“You never told me to stay.”
“Good girl.”
“Where did you learn how to cook?”
“At my mother's hip. It was just the two of us, so she wanted to make sure I was properly equipped for the world. She taught me to shoot, too, but it has never really come up since. I prefer negotiations to brute violence. “
He turned to look at me then. His face doing that thing where I couldn’t read his expressions at all.
“Why aren't you wearing any clothes?”
“You didn't tell me to get dressed either.”
“Clever little fox,” he said with a half-smile.
“I am learning from the best, Master.”
“Sarcasm?” my master inquired.
“Not at all.”
“Good, otherwise I might have to spank you. “
“Spank away, Master. I won't cry.”
“After breakfast.”
Serving up two plates of delicious food that tasted like he had grown it himself, Adam went over to the table, gesturing to it with his head. I obeyed my master's wish and sat down primly, waiting for him to tell me I could eat.
“Eat,” he ordered.
A little thrill ran through me as I picked up my fork. There was something really sexy about being ordered about by a dominant man, no matter how simple the activity might be.
We ate in silence, Master not telling me I was allowed to speak. His own attention set to chewing every bite exactly thirty-seven times. It was odd yet also oddly endearing at the same the same time.
I wondered who had told him he should do that, or least who that he would actually pay any attention to. His mom maybe? He didn't strike me as the mama's boy type, but you never could tell just by looking.
When we were finished, Adam collected the plates and put them in the sink, covering them with hot water. Leaving them to soak, he came back to