Waiting

Alone in the dark, curled up on the bottom stair, she waited.

She had managed to find a comfortable position on the cool bare wooden step though it had taken a long while and a lot of shifting. Her wrists, bound together with a silent dressing gown belt that was tied firmly to the banner, made it difficult to change position. Her ankles had been left untied this time for which she was grateful – it helped to be able to stretch her legs and ward off cramp. The central heating had been left on, but despite this she felt cold, a drag from somewhere cooled the skin on her naked body. She drifted in and out of sleep until in the still darkness of the night she was suddenly alert. A sound from outside. She heard a car pull away, its engine growing then fading as it drive off.

She listened intently. Was it him? Was he back?

She held her breathe so she could hear better.

Footsteps at the back door, then a silence so unexpected she thought for a moment she was imagazineing things. But no.

The jangle of keys. The metallic scrape of a key inserted and turned.

He was home.

He was back.

She realized she was trembling – was it the drag? Fear? . . Excitement?

He was in the kitchen now. She heard him pouring a glass of water from the tap. The cent of alcohol wafted down the corridor to where she lay. She waited Apprehensively. There was an unexpected silence from the kitchen. She thought she could hear him breathing but was unsure if it was her imagination. Finally more sounds – his footsteps, heavy as he walked down the corridor. He would be upon her any moment now. It was not completely dark where she lay for some street light from outside filtered through the front door windowpane. He would see her. She held her breathe, her heart beat faster as he drew near.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs, as though puzzled. She looked up at his imposing black form, like the grim reacter comes to steal her life. The smell of alcohol was much stronger now.

His voice when he spoke was thick, guttural, slurred by the drink. ‘What have we here?’

She looked up, wordlessly.

‘You’ve displeased mistress?’

She nodded, then realising he might not be able to see the motion in the darkness spoke up instead.

‘Yes, master.’ Her voice was small in the vastness of the night.

She heard him give a low throaty chuckle then he moved past her and began to climb the stairs, holding the banner for balance.

‘Master?’ she called practically.

He stopped but didn’t move, as though undecided on whether or not to continue up the stairs. To the girl the pause was long and tortuous. Then he turned and came down stairs again. He stood over her, not speaking. Only breathing, heavily.

‘Please master,’ she begged.

He showed. ‘Alright then, but quickly. I’m tired.’

‘Yes, master,’ she said, shifting her rump so she sat in a more upright position.

He gave a sight thatseemed imbued with reluctance as he unzipped his flies. Then, deciding it would be easier, he unclasped his belt and undid the button of his trousers. He pushed a hand down his pants coat his hand in sweat from his inner thigh and his balls. He pulled his hand out and pushed it into her face. She inhaled the musky scent as though it was nectar. She let out a soft whimper.

Her master pulled his pants down just enough to free himself. He placed one foot two steps higher on the stairs and gripped the banner for support as he lean forward, his genitals now level with the girl’s face. She drew in his scent, as his flaccid cock brushed her cheek. It was a mixture of sweat and the slight odour of urine. The smell excited her. She turned her face and took his member into her warm wet mouth. Her master was big. Even flaccid he filled her, and she noted with aroused satisfaction, he was swiftly hardening the warm pit of her mouth. As his erection grow, she began bobbing her head, slowly at first then faster. She felt his hand on the top of her head, strong fingers gripping her skull pushing her head forward more firmly so the swollen head of his cock pushed down into her throat almost gagging her. The salty taste of his precome coated her mouth. Below, she was wet and slick with her own desire. Her thighs rubbed together with the age of her need. Oblivious to her arousal her master thrust harder, her face merely a means to his ends. He was grunting with each thrust now jerking her head back and forward so he almost left her mouth before ramming back inside. The slapping sounds of his organ as her come coated mouth was penetrated with ever greater gusto filled the quiet night air in the house.

From the heightened pitch of her master’s grunts the girl knew he was close. He plunged one final time deep into her mouth, Both hands gripping her skull so tightly she feared he would crush her. Then release. A gush of warm ejactulate spurted down her throat to slowly trickle into her belly.

Her master gave a massive sight from his exercises as he withdraw and the girl was able to draw her breath properly again. His cock, now softening, was still by her face and the girl gently licked around the head, cleaning away residual come that leaked from his spend member. He gave her a moment to finish, then put himself away and zipped up and refasted his trousers. He looked down at her and she up at him. Then in one swift motion he drew back a hand and slapped her across the face.

‘Don’t upset mistress again,’ he commanded.

He turned from her and mounted the stairs. She listened carefully as he went into his bedroom then heard the springs of his bed as he climbed inside next to his wife, her mistress.

The girl settled back down on her stair. The taste of her master’s come still strong in her mouth. The cent of his presence comforting. She would be punished for her misdeeds in the morning mistress would see to that.

Alone in the dark, curled up on the bottom stair, she waited.