The Bounty of Submission 1

Isabella could only groan under the thin sheet her body wrapped around Consciousness, for the first time in her life, not rushing to meet her, not yanking the covers away to force her into the day unprepared.

The night had been too great, even the sun could not penetrate her close eyelids, likely smeared of her liner from all the love-making she and her master had done into the darkest hours of the night. But now, everything was peaceful, the silken sheets, caressing her chocolate body without a snag, likely stained with invisible spots of cum and sweat. The faintest aroma of coffee in the air, just teasing away the restfulness in her eyes. Her lips curled softly in a smile.

Master always enjoyed his morning brew around nine, so that gave her a hint of her timing. The squeak of the bed sinking in, the sound that she had grown well acquainted with from the night before, came as His warmth permeated the thin sheet. But no words were spoken.

Moments passed and the only sound he made came from the steady sip of his coffee. He normally never drank coffee silent. Not with His thin, chocolate treat nearby.

No, they’d spend their morning warm in each others arms, her smooth back on his muscular chest, her body always melting in his embrace, hand armed with drink he’d occasionally let her sip the sweet caffeine until they got that pleasant buzz coursing through their limbs.

But there was no pleasant buzz he was sharing, nor were there any teasing touches along her spine. No firm, possessive kisses in the most sensitive part of her neck that made her toes curl in.

Just the empty touch of his weight on the bed. Her breathing slowly picking up as a rush of air pulled in, eyes creaking open.

And there He was. With heavy brown drapes to the right, the windows stood curtained from the bright azure sky and the sun, only leaving a shallow, golden ray of light from between the drapes, cutting into the darkness of the room with golden specks loftily floating in its path.

Sat in nothing but his black slacks, Isabella could see the muscular scape of his smooth body, aglow in the path of the sun ray as it complimented the healthy tan of his skin. The only hair to amount being the salt and pepper hair, thick and combed back. Vibrant, green and brooding eyes met her before she could rub clear her own brown ones. The storm bolstering in His made all the water in her mouth go dry.

“Go-goodmorning, Master.” Her voice left her weakly, suddenly unsure how to speak. Even without meaning to be, even knowing his lovable and warm demeanor didn’t help, his 6’0 height still intimidating and cold as he was hunched over what she assumed was his cup.

“Bell.” He spoke with hollow emotions, looking down into his hand. An ominous, white light took aglow from his hand. Colder, much too harsh compared to the warm sun on his back. She took another look into his hand. “What has my little slut been hiding from me?”

She flinched at his words. Slut? He’d never use that word with her, he knew how distant that made her sound. Like a prostitute for the night. In his hand was not coffee. . . Even with no food in her stomach, it lurched painfully with a suspicious weigh as she saw her phone. The screen lit with the last page of email she was on.

A naked selfie picture of her body, kneeling on the very same bed that was His and hers, torso curved upward, extenuating her flat stomach, round and heavy mounds with wine red hair waterfalling down her back, frame the supple chocolate of her skin and darker nipples, hands submissively behind, save for the arm holding up the camera phone.

It would be all fine. If the email wasn’t going out to half a dozen address bar list. His being completely missing.

“Well little slut?” He spoke with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, teeth that refused to unclench as he lifted the screen closer to her face. Menacing.

She clung to the sheet in front of her like a shield, lifting her body up, leaning away. But he had already moved

To be continued …


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