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Her man leaves her alone to meet his 'friend'.

Master will make sure I finish them later, and so with a great sense of satisfaction I decide that I can ignore them. I don't have to stress; he's my focus, and he won't let me be too lazy.

By the time I head back upstairs, plates and a mug of coffee on a tray, it's almost eight o'clock - unacceptably late on a weekday, perfect on a cold November Saturday. Love fills me as I re-enter the bedroom and gaze down at Master's sleeping form. He is generous enough to allow my fingers to rake through his hair when I kiss him, and the morning after it is unbelievably messy. It reminds me to grab the hairbrush from the bedside table as I set the tray down and run it through my own hair. He is Master, and has the privilege of looking however he wants; I am slave, and do not.

Still, I can't help find the mess of his ginger hair unbelievably handsome, dashing and swashbuckling in its way, especially knowing what caused it. He rolls to face me in his sleep, long eyelashes fluttering and lips moving slightly as he mutters something. I don't have particularly long before he wakes, and it has been impressed upon me firmly how Master is to wake up every day. Quickly, I kneel on the bed and crawl between his thighs, pushing my head between his knees and letting my hair fall across his thighs. Wrapping both hands around the base of his cock, I lower my mouth to its head and wrap my soft lips around it.

I flick my tongue gently against it, swirling around the underneath, before plunging my head down, swallowing hard to get it down my throat. One of my hands starts caressing his balls gently while the other creeps up between his legs, across his stomach and comes to rest flat on his ribcage in a pleading, worshipping gesture. I hum, knowing the vibrations in my throat feel good to him, and rub the tip of my tongue hard into the underside of the base of his cock. I can feel his fluids seeping into my mouth, mixing with my saliva, and he tastes so very good.

A hand lands atop my head, then starts scratching at the back of my neck and behind my ears, making me moan in bliss.

"You are the best fucking alarm clock in the entire world," Master murmurs at me, his breath catching in such a way that I know I'm doing well. I suck a little harder, pulling out just a little as he hardens to iron in my mouth and I suddenly find that I can't breathe. He growls and forces my head back down, my nose buried in coarse ginger hair, and I whimper and wriggle at my lack of oxygen. He holds me there for a moment, his hips shifting under me, and then my mouth fills with hot sticky satisfaction and he lets me go.

As I pull off his cock, he flicks my nose gently. "Swallow," he orders, and I do, before carefully cleaning the rest of his cum from him. The tone of dominance in his voice, the knowledge that he doesn't have a single doubt that I will obey, sets my stomach fluttering and need once more dripping from my pussy.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs at me. My limbs turn to jelly. I flop onto the bed, my head resting on his hip, absolutely blissful in the knowledge that I have pleased Master.

Master beckons me and I rise to my hands and knees. I carefully step my hands over his leg and crawl a few paces up the bed to the pillow, where I face him and kneel, my forehead touching the mattress below his shoulder. I am intensely aware of the way my breasts move sinuously as I crawl, and the way they bulge up towards him as I trap them between the mattress and my ribs in the catlick position. I stretch my hand out again, laying it on his collarbone, beseeching him. I feel his fingers in my hair again and rub against his hand, kittenlike, and dare to raise my shoulders so I can gaze up at him with my best big-innocent-blue-eyes look.

"Please Master, I'm soaked, may I take care of myself?"

His fingers pause, then trail down the back of my neck and trace the lines of my spine and shoulder blades.

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