Sasha's Master


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Sasha shivered uncontrollably in the manor’s courtyard, watching as water was pumped into large wooden pails. The chill of the March morning crept through her thin cloak, and when a full bucket was handed to her, she nodded gratefully and hurried back to the kitchen entrance.

Morning fires were being lit; and aching backs were being stretched only to bend once more to the tasks of kneading dough and carrying vegetables from the low bins that stood in badly lit corners of the cold stone kitchen. Sasha smiled at the other servants’ tired sighs. She knew that soon this room would become an almost unbearable inferno. Tempers would grow short as the heat from cooking fires increased. There would be a flurry of activity. So it had been for the last three days.

Once she was in the long hall, she placed the bucket on the end of a table. Then she sat, and began to eat quickly when one of the more motherly servants thrust an apple and a bowl of porridge into her hands. This night’s feast would be another celebration to remember. Lords and ladies from many miles distant had been arriving over the past week, and would undoubtedly continue to arrive throughout the day. She was pleased that she had only to attend to the Master. For almost a month she had worked without rest, or so it had seemed, and now she was very happy to return to her normal duties. Her body was a little stiff, and she was beginning to feel drained. Last week’s rain had not helped much, and being caught in a downpour on her way from the market two days ago had left a dull ache in her joints.

But nothing could douse her light mood, now she was back to serving her master. In truth, she looked forward to each moment spent with him. She knew it was improper, but she was falling in love.

Sasha finished her apple, put the core in the bowl, and then placed the bowl on the tray of a young serving boy who smiled and winked at her. Good naturedly tousling the lad’s hair, she grabbed the bucket and strode through the hall, hips swinging lithely, and then climbed the stairs to the Master’s chamber.

“Damn, it’s cold this morning,” she said to herself as she rapped softly at her lord’s door and heard his gruff response, urging her to enter. His gruffness only caused her to grin. Crossing to the far side of the dim room, still smiling, Sasha placed the bucket on the floor and knelt to arrange logs and kindling in the grate. She stood, went to the Master’s bedside table, and cheerfully plucked up the candle to light the fire.

The Master watched her every movement through half closed eyes. He was taking in her beauty and grace. She was stunning beyond words, and belonged completely to him. This thought alone always gave him great pleasure, and it made him chuckle now. Her long auburn hair, braided down her back, was tied with a tight bow at the nape of her neck – but a few tendrils always seemed to escape and hang round her creamy throat. If he happened to touch her, her skin always felt wonderfully soft, and though he had yet to kiss her, he fancied her lips would be akin to wet rose petals. Long lashes framed her teal green eyes, which glittered with gold flecks and seemed to twinkle when she was happy and flash when she was vexed. Her frame, though petite, was strong. Her breasts, perky and round, strained against her garments as if they might pop from her bodice. The Master often smiled down at them when Sasha helped him on with his boots. This day, however, she looked rather pale.

The kindling smoked slowly as Sasha fanned it with the end of her long apron. Curling blue smoke crept up past the logs, and the scent tickled Sasha’s graceful nose. Turning her head to one side, she pressed the back of her hand against her nose and sneezed: “Ah tishhh, tisssh, chishhhh.”

“Bless you, Sasha,” said the Master. She felt as if his deep voice had resonated in her soul.

Sasha blushed. Sneezing always made her tingle deep in her sex, and here, at this moment, in front of the Master, the sensation made her feel almost naked. “Thank you, milord, good day to you.” She sniffed slightly.

“Come here,” he ordered gently, smiling at her. “Sit for a moment. You seem tired.”

Sasha stood and obediently sat on the edge of his bed, her head properly bowed as she fretted the hem of her apron. Truth be told, she was a little tired and still chilled.

Not quite satisfied, wanting her closer, the Master patted the mattress. “Mmm, that is nice, but this is what I had in mind. Here sweet, come lean against me.”

As Sasha unquestioningly moved closer, her nose tickled again and she cupped her hands, muffling sneezes. “Hitchmpfff, chmpfff, ahhmpfff.” She sniffled. “Oh, excuse me, milord.”

Brow furrowed, the Master leaned forward and removed a large handkerchief from his bedside table. As he moved, his warm, well-muscled chest pressed against her back for a moment. “Bless you, again. For you, Sasha.” He spoke softly and tenderly as he placed the cloth in her hand. When he spoke her name, he sounded like a purring lion.

Blushing again, Sasha blew her nose, sniffed delicately, and submissively tucked the handkerchief into the pocket of her apron.

“Now, let’s have a look at you,” the Master said, taking her cold hands into his warm ones. He sat up and turned her to face him. Brushing her hair from her face, he felt her throat and cheek with the back of his hand, and then placed his large palm against her forehead.

“Mmm, just as I thought,” he said. “You seem to be a bit warm, lass.”

Sasha began to protest meekly: “No, milord, I’ve so much to do. In all honesty, I am well. I was a bit cold earlier, and should have donned my winter cloak this morn, rather than this one. ’Tis too thin to wear so early in March.”

The Master put a finger to his lips, hushing her, and pulled her close to his chest. He removed the thin fabric she referred to as a cloak, angry with himself for not having provided her with more, and rubbed his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, catching her hands in his.

Sasha’s nose twitched threateningly, though she was loath to scratch it, because this would mean pulling one of her hands from his wonderful grasp. She sniffed lightly, and he spoke again: “Sasha, you are my responsibility, and as such it falls to me to see you are well. So what if, this day, I attend to myself, and you remain here in my bed and rest?”

Sasha sat up. “ Oh, milord, I could not. ’Twould not be right, I, I… hattishhhh, chishhh, atttchooo! Oh, please, my pardon.” She shivered almost imperceptibly, but his watchful eye detected it.

“That settles things, lass. And bless you. I’ll be the one to worry about whether ’tis right.” Affectionately, the Master placed Sasha against his pillows, and pulled the blankets up from the foot of the bed. Standing bare-chested, wearing only his britches, he looked magnificent. His beard brushed her forehead as he kissed his servant gently, and his long blond hair fell forward over his shoulders. He slipped off her doeskin slippers and eased her feet under the covers. He reached under her back, eased her long braid out from beneath her, and untied the bow. Placing the ribbon on the nightstand, he smiled at her as she sneezed again: “Ahh tishhh, chissshh”.

“All right, I shall dress and go below. You are to rest for now.”

Sasha nodded tamely and cleared her throat. She looked up at her master, teal eyes earnest and wide. “Thank you milord. I – I don’t know what to say, as ’tis most unusual. I am most grateful. Admittedly, I feel as if I’ve caught cold, but I would be more than happy to serve you…elsewhere.”

The Master chuckled as he donned his overblouse and clasped his mantle. Smiling down at her, gently holding her chin in his large hand, he replied: “Admittedly, you have caught cold, lass. You serve me well by resting here. Get well lass. Not to worry about your duty. I’ll have something for you to do for me this eve. Now, I must go below to see to our guests. I shan’t be long.”

Sasha dutifully leaned back against his pillows, his smell all around her, and fell into a restful slumber.

*         *         *

His guests were well into their cups and the hour late, and the Master could think of nothing but Sasha, lying in his room. Her sweet sneezes echoed in his head. How had he managed to stay with his guests so long! Excusing himself at last, he made his way up the stairwell to his chamber.

Gingerly he opened the door, entered, and quietly closed it behind him. A scent of lavender met him, and he turned to find Sasha gazing up at him from his bed. She appeared devoid of garments. He saw that her nose was a little pink from her sneezing, but her creamy complexion had regained its glow in the fire’s merry light.

“How farest thou, Sasha?” the Master asked with a smirk as he crossed the room to his chair.

“Much better, milord,” she replied, sitting up so that the sheet fell away, exposing her breasts and flat belly.

The Master raised his brow at her boldness, at her naked ease in front of him. “Hmm – so you are well enough to serve me now?” He sat in his large chair and poured himself a brandy, swirling the amber liquid in the glass before gulping down half.

“Yes, milord.” Sasha pulled the covers back and crossed the room to kneel before him. The Master stared down at her, and her nipples grew hard under his gaze. Here in front of the fire it was warm, and Sasha revelled in the feeling of heat against her skin. But the Master gave no order. Instead, still gazing down at her as she kneeled naked in front of him, his brandy long forgotten, he reached forward and gathered her long hair in one hand. Slowly, he lifted her up by it.

Staring at her master in astonishment, her attention lingered on his hawkish, handsome face and long blond hair. His warm deep brown eyes met hers with the same intensity. Bringing her hand up to cover her mouth, Sasha shivered and sneezed forcefully.

“Haaah chisshhhh, hat choooo!” Her sex was wet now, and a terrible weakness overtook her.

He felt an overwhelming tenderness towards her, but it frightened him. Quickly he shut it off, though some part of him was stumbling to awareness of his feelings for her. He stood and lifted Sasha to her feet, her hair wound round his left hand. With the tip of one boot, he tapped her legs wide apart.

“You will show yourself to me, Sasha,” the Master ordered, the barest trace of a smile on his lips. Sasha could no longer think clearly, and suddenly he released her hair, and in the same instant she grew shy. He sank into his chair, confident of her obedience.

“Sasha, put your hands between your legs and touch your sex,” he commanded. “Show me it. I wish to look at you there.”

Sasha did not flinch, and nor did she look away. She stared directly into her master’s face as he spread her apart with his own fingers. Then, in a swift movement, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, kissing her fiercely. Sasha’s tongue met his, and he moaned, fumbling with the fastening on his britches. Her nose tickled sharply and she brought her hand up to rub it – but just a little too late. She barely had time to turn her head away as she sneezed a harsh: “Tisshhhoooo!”

At once, the Master’s cock plunged inside her. He filled her completely, his wet hot pubic hair sealing his body around hers, his hands pressed under her buttocks as he thrust, lifting her off the bed. Harder and harder the Master worked her. She barely realised that he was cradling her head and that he was kissing her sweetly, lovingly. Sasha felt only jarring explosions of pleasure pulsing through her loins. Then she became aware that her mouth had clamped strongly on his, as if she was trying to devour him. She pulled away fractionally, her lips caressing his lips, and sneezed harshly. Her taut body felt weightless…

“Attishhh, hat choo, tishh.”

Sasha was lifted and brought down, and lifted and brought down, until with a loud cry she released a final shattering orgasm as the Master’s hot juices filled her to overflowing. Black fog swallowed her consciousness – and the Master held his servant close to his heart.