The fire crackled in the corner, filling the room with a heady mix of wood smoke and vanilla. The curtains were drawn, protecting them from the cold, dark night outside. In the same armchair, a couple sat watching the flames flicker and spark in the stove. The man was dressed in soft pyjama bottoms and a black t-shirt. The girl, cradled in his lap, wore only the rope-cuffs he’d tied around her hands and ankles weeks ago. She hugged him for warmth, but also because she loved to be close to him. There was nothing to hear in the room, besides the fire and their breathing.

Nestled in the crook of his neck, Sassy could hear the beat of his heart in his throat. Under her hand, she felt the steady beat of his heart. She sighed and closed her eyes. His hand stroked the length of her calf, up and down, a regular rhythm. On a stroke down, he felt her shiver in his arms, huddling closer.

“Are you cold?” he murmured.

“Mmm, yes,” she whispered. “Sir,” she tagged on, just in time.

Jethro would not be surprised to know he’d just woken her from a snooze. He reached around her, stretching for a blanket on the arm of the sofa. He grabbed it, flapping it open. He draped it over her, taking care to make sure she was completely wrapped up in it. She kissed his neck in thanks.

An hour passed in this way. Snuggled together, enjoying each other’s quiet company in the warm glow of a winter fire.

She fell asleep again.

“Time for bed, sleepy,” he spoke softly, gently getting up with her in his arms.

Her first instinct was to meet her lips with his. She planted a small kiss on the corner of his lips, letting him carry her up to bed. He pulled back the covers, and put her to bed, still wrapped in the blanket. He went back downstairs to put the house to bed, too.

Sassy roused herself so she would be conscious when he came back. She sat up in the bed, removing the blanket and began loosening the rope around her ankle cuff. She tried anyway. He caught her red-handed.

“What are you doing?” He looked disgruntled.

“I’m untying it for you, Monseigneur,” she said, yawning.

“Well don’t.” He frowned. “That’s my job. Lie down. Go back to sleep.”

“But what if I don’t want to?” She pouted at him.

Jethro thought she looked very pretty like this, cute and in need of affection, or a spanking. He closed the bedroom door behind him, flicking the switch. Darkness swallowed everything. He pounced onto the bed, forcing her to her back, and capturing the tied ankle in his hand. Sassy squealed delightedly.

“Mine.” He growled in her ear, biting the tender insole. “Whose is it?” he demanded.

“Yours, Monseigneur,” she said, laughing, “It’s all yours.”

“Good.”

Jethro pulled her arms up the headboard, fixing them together with the rope left there for just these events. She heard clothes hit the bedroom floor. He felt down her body, searching for the rope on her ankle cuff. He undid it quickly.

She felt him stretch out next to her; his body hair tickled her soft skin and the length of his cock rested against her thigh. He was completely naked. Gentle fingers caressed her face, seeking her lips. They found them. He barely touched them, leaving them tingling.

“And who do these belong to?” His voice was low and heavy, Sassy could hear the desire rumble in his chest.

“They’re yours, Sir.”

He laid a chaste kiss on her lips, cutting the tingling sensation.

They burned for more, but his lips disappeared. His fingers returned to her body, brushing her jaw line, down her neck. His touch made shivers run down her body. He placed his hand in the centre of her chest, between the two peaks of her breasts. Under it, her heart knocked an unsteady rhythm.

“This?”

“Yours.”

He followed the trail of goose bumps he had raised with his fingers, kissed the bumps away, and warming her skin again. Ending with a final kiss over her heart, his fingers traversed her breasts, closing on her throbbing nipples. Sassy’s breathing was coming in short gasps and shaky exhales.

“And—”

“Yours, Master.” She sighed.

He chuckled at her impatience. “Good girl.”

He continued the pattern with fingers and kisses down her body. At her navel, he added his tongue, licking her quivering skin.

“Who does this belong to, Sassy?” he murmured against her.

“You, my Lord,” she stammered, panting for air. A sheen of sweat covered her body. The room was cold, but the fire he had built in her simmered low, flushing her body.

His path neglected her sex, travelling down her legs, reaching her feet. He rubbed the cold toes in his warm hands, and then began the ascent up her legs, towards her sex. At her thighs, she parted her legs wide for him. He kissed and licked his way up, lavishing the soft tops at the apex of her sex with his mouth. The kisses were tender and the licks gentle.

He held her hips still in firm hands. Sharp teeth nipped at the supple flesh there in remonstrance, issuing a yelp from her. She stopped wriggling, contrite, but still impatient.

Jethro got up, leaving her on the bed.

“What—” Sassy cried, “What, Sir, what are you doing?”

He gave no reply, but she heard him fumbling in one of the bedside tables. A spark lit his face, and then a glow emerged. He was lighting the candles. Soon there was a warm glow diffusing light in the room.

“I want you to watch me,” he said, lifting her slightly so her head rested on the headboard. He rearranged pillows for her comfort then lay down between her legs again.

She gulped. Although she enjoyed it when he went ate out of her, the act still left her awkward and shy. There was something very intimate about him being down there. Everything was on display. All those secret little folds and the hole, which was normally kept hidden, would look like a second bullseye beneath her swollen clit.

Sassy gasped. He was blowing cool air against the heat of her exposed lips. A shiver ran up her spine. In front of her, he was lowering his mouth to her sex. His tongue poked out, ready to taste her. She blushed, watching and feeling the image before her.

There was plenty to taste. In the candlelight, Jethro could see she was lying on a very wet patch of her own making. He could see beads of her juices roll over her labia. He flicked his tongue over her rigid clit. Her whole body jerked, her cry filled the room. He parted her vulva lips, and with a soft tongue, licked every inch of her pussy, savouring that sweet, tangy taste of her. She moaned and writhed again. In lazy circles, he encroached on her clit. False cries escaped her mouth every time she thought he would stroke it.

When she started to beg, he decided to relieve her need. His lips closed around it, sucking in the raw nerves of her little nub. A wordless cry escaped her body, raising her sex up to him. He suckled at her clit, occasionally flicking his tongue over her.

She found her voice again. Sir was latched onto her clit, tugging on it with his hot, wet mouth. She was nearly there, all the sinewy muscles tightened, waiting to snap and unwind. Fingers pushed their way inside her. Her whole body convulsed around him at her centre.

“And whose is that?” His voice was in her ear.

Sassy could barely muster the strength to speak, but she turned to him, lips at his neck, and whispered the words.

“Yours.”

She turned away, pictures of his bobbing head between her legs still invading her mind. She needed to focus on living. Breathing in the heady smell of him, and her, she couldn’t concentrate on anything but him. That had felt like torture, like dying and waking at the same time. He could kill her and revive her in the same touch.

He was planting himself between her. His head stroked the sensitive lips, pushing past them in to her. He filled her completely, burying himself within her to the hilt. They moaned together when he was safe inside her.

Two fingers pushed her lips apart. He forced them deep into her, making her taste herself. They delved in deep, touching every part of her mouth. He removed them simultaneously with his cock. She was left completely empty and wanting. Then his lips sought hers, forcing his tongue past, thrusting the taste of her into her mouth. His cock slammed in hard, jolting her cervix, stabbing her with pain.

She accepted it. Every touch of his was a gift. Whether it bought pain or pleasure, she wanted it because it was his pleasure to do so. He had saved her from everything. Tended and nurtured her, fed her and taught her so many things. He was like a god to her. These were her only moments to worship him: to offer all that she had in recompense for his touch, his words, him. She loved him with her whole heart, more than in moments like these, because her body, his body, compelled her to. She thought it every moment she was with him, and even more when he wasn’t. But it was only now, coiled together, that he would accept her love.

He was building inside her; each thrust was drawing him closer. He knocked into her again and again, issuing mixed cries of bliss and agony. She cried out his name, all the names she had for him, as she reached her own climax.

“Master." She gasped.

"Sir, please!" she cried.

"Monsei— Oh God!”

He groaned.

Cum struck her cervix, tapping the throbbing walls of the tunnel. She spasmed around him. He collapsed on her, his full weight holding her down. His cock still nestled inside of her. Sweat lingered on both their bodies, cooling them. They panted against the other’s neck, drawing in deep lungful’s of air.

He tried to move away, but she clamped her legs around him, urging him to remain.

“Stay, please, Sir,” she begged him.

He rested his full weight on her, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck.

“Jethro,” he said.