There he was I recognized him immediately from his pictures. The dusting of gray at the edges of his dark hair shone in the candlelight. I remember our conversation as if it were yesterday. His eyes caught mine through a swirl of smoke from his cigarette I worried that he would not approve of what he saw. Shaking slightly, I walked up to his table and stopped behind the chair across from his.
I sat. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.
“Have you done as I ordered? That is, the makeup and such. ”
Yes, Master, he corrected.
I felt a burning rush of blood as I replied softly, “Yes, Master.”
“No cosmetics? No jewelry?”
“The pictures?” I asked quickly without thinking.
“What about the pictures?”
“You liked them?” I remembered my naked contortions as I’d tried to take flattering pictures of myself to send to him. All the pictures he had sent me had been of him clothed.
“Yes. I liked them.”
I sat there silently for several slowly turning moments in the light of his stare. Again I hoped for his approval. I saw in his smile that I had it, and I felt pride.
When he asked me why I was there, I immediately answered that I wanted nothing more than to serve him.
I further explained that it had been his letters that had spurred me on. When we began corresponding after I answered his personal ad, I had reacted immediately to them with a respect for him that bordered on worship. There was a presence about him even in his writing that was incredibly powerful. Maybe it was more me than him, but I felt it just the same.
“Are you sure about this?” he whispered.
“Yes. Yes,” I repeated as if realizing for the first time how much I wanted it.
“Take this pen and paper. Write what I tell you.” He glanced at his watch and dictated the time and the date, which I then filled in at the top of the page. And my name. He was speaking in a low voice, and I doubted that anyone around us could hear. Still, I wondered what they would think if they could, and that thought excited me. He continued, “Write the code word that I tell you.” Actually, he had already assigned it to me in his letters. He had chosen a word which was short enough to remember under pressure but obscure enough that I would not say it accidentally. I have neither spoken nor written this word since that day.
I realized that I was so nervous and excited that I hadn’t been listening but he went right on, “. . . for this reason, I will never gag you without your consent. Use of the code word will end your relationship with me quickly and permanently. I will give you enough money for transportation to wherever you wish to go, but you will never be allowed to return. Do you understand?” I nodded and returned the paper to him. He folded it and slipped it into his jacket.
A question rested, unspoken, between us: “Where do we go from here?” I felt this phantom inquiry lying in the center of the table as we ate. Neither of us spoke. He did not seem aware of it until, finally, he said, “Let’s go.”
When we got to his car, a sporty foreign model, he ordered me to extend my hands. When I did, he fastened handcuffs on my wrists. He then ordered me to turn around and blindfolded me with a silk scarf. Thus prepared, I climbed into the passenger side of his car.
The ride was silent, torturously so. Where were we going? What was he going to do to me? I was losing all sense of time and space. When we stopped, I had no idea where we were. He got out, opened my door and led me out of the car by the ring linking my manacles. He led me up a cement walk, onto a porch and into a building. Once we were inside, he removed the cuffs but left the scarf.
Undress. . . everything but the blindfold.” As I began to unbutton my blouse, I realized that I had no idea of my surroundings. There could be any number of people watching. The thought excited me as much as it frightened me. I let my blouse drop to the ground. , . and my bra soon followed. As my breasts jiggled free, I wondered if his eyes were focused on them. After stepping out of my heels, I stood barefoot and unbuttoned my jeans and pushed both them and my panties down to my ankles in a single smooth stroke. When I stepped out of that puddle of clothing, I was completely nude. My heart pounded so that I thought it would burst out of my chest.
He placed his finger on the back of my neck. I froze and held my breath, ready for anything. His finger moved slowly downward, following my spine. I shook as if his touch were charged with electricity. When it was just above the cleft in my buttocks, his finger withdrew. I kept trembling uncontrollably for several seconds, a quivering mass of aroused flesh ready to be used as it suited his whim.
I heard him move from behind me and knew that he was now looking at me from the front. Hoping he found my breasts attractive, I pulled my shoulders back and thrust my chest out as much as I could.
“Get on your knees,” he said quietly. I lowered myself slowly to the floor. The carpeting felt rough against my bare legs. He plucked away the blindfold. I saw that we were alone and that he still wore the dark suit. “Kiss my shoe.”
I placed my hands on either side of his right foot, bent over and pecked at his shoe with my lips.
“You call that a kiss?” he said. “Try again. ” This time I placed my open mouth on the shoe leather and massaged it passionately with my lips and tongue. When he ordered me to stop, the toe of the shoe was all slick and shiny.
He obviously understood what sweet torture it was for me to kneel there, wondering what was to come next with an intoxicating mixture of fear and anticipation. He certainly took his sweet time searching for a cigarette and lighter, lighting the cigarette slowly, and letting me watch him build a haze of smoke around his face that made him seem even more sexy than before.
“Do you recall, my dear little slave,” he said at last, smoke falling from his lips, “that my orders were to be carried out quickly and efficiently?”
“When I ordered you to undress, do you think that you obeyed quickly?”
I considered the question and decided that I had undressed quite slowly, partly because of my nervousness, partly because of the blindfold and partly because I had wanted to be seductive. “No, Master,” I answered. I found I could not meet his eyes.
“And your first try at kissing my shoe? Come over here.” He went to the couch and sat on the edge of it. I followed. He grabbed my arm and pulled me off my feet. I fell across his lap, my head and feet dangling in midair. For a suspended moment of anticipation, I studied my toes hanging down on the other side of his legs. Then he began slapping my bare backside. The first few spanks barely stung, but the heat increased with each mechanical fall of his hand.
Spanking is all in the wrist, and I could tell he had done this before. I began gasping with the first slap, more in response to the pleasing sound of flesh on flesh than to the pain. I had just started to yelp when he finished and ordered me off his lap and onto my knees. Needless to say, I obeyed quickly.
“You may thank me now,” he said softly as he stood.
“Thank you, Master,” I replied. I meant it.
“Come along.” I followed him into his bedroom, where he had me look at my behind in the mirror. It was reddened in uneven splotches, and his handprint was visible here and there. I ran my hand over one buttock, stirring the painful embers a bit.
“We’ll be bathing now. Come into the bathroom.” I went in and knelt on the tiles. When I stepped into the shower, the spray was already hot and I knelt beneath it. I hissed as the warm water brought out the fire in my reddened rump.
The glass door was closed, and I could see only the shape of my master. He was undressing. When at last the door slid open, I saw my master’s nude body for the first time. He was smoothly muscular, and his erect penis had a commanding stature.
He stepped into his shower and stood in front of me. I was mesmerized by his magnificent sex. He handed me a bar of soap and explained what I was to do. I began with excited speed, lathering up one of his feet, rinsing off the soap, then kissing it.
“Slower,” he said softly. I did the other foot slowly. I worked my way up his legs, soaping, rinsing, then kissing. I did his ass before his crotch his buttocks were thick and tight.
Soaping and rinsing and kissing, I worked my way around one hip until the one eyed python was staring me in the face. As I lathered up his balls, he said, “Now use your mouth,” so I took them gently in my mouth to rinse them. Next I covered his erect shaft with suds and licked it clean.
“Now take it all in your mouth,” he moaned. I did, as far as it would go, and seconds later, he exploded, hot and greasy, into my throat. I massaged his penis with my lips, milking all he had to give.
As my mouth drank his come, my whole being drank in his moans of pleasure. I had never imagined I could feel such excitement in serving a man as his slave.
Continuing my task, I cleaned all the way up his torso and his arms. When I had reached his neck, my master stopped me. “You’ve done well,” he said, and suddenly he grabbed my wet hair, yanked my head back and pressed his open mouth on mine. He kissed me deep and long, and I felt an electric surge go through my body from my lips to my toes. It was at that moment that I realized I wanted never to leave this man.
When he released me from the kiss, he stepped out of the shower and led me into the bedroom. There were leather straps hanging from the ceiling over the bed, and wrist cuffs attached to the headboard. At his command, I climbed onto the bed. My wrists were quickly bound by the cuffs. The hanging straps were for my legs. He fastened them, then pulled the straps until they were taut and my legs were wide. I was wonderfully helpless, or was I? I still had the code word. I still wanted more. I asked him to gag me. After the kiss in the shower, I wanted to place myself totally in his hands.
My master took a rubber ball with leather straps attached out of a drawer. He ordered me to open wide. When I did, he placed the ball in my mouth and secured it by buckling the strap around my head. He went back to the drawer and took out something else, then returned to the bed with it in his hand. My master leaned over me and began kissing my left nipple. The pleasure was replaced with a stinging pain. I looked down to see that he had placed a clamp on the red peak of my breast and had moved on to kiss the other one. I bit into the ball and waited for the inevitable bite of the other clamp, which was not long in coming.
Thus prepared, I felt my heart swelling to the limits of my chest and excitement throbbing in my blood. My master came to bed with a riding crop. I knew that a wild new game was about to begin.
Leaning between my legs, he roughly drove himself into me, filling me magnificently. He pounded in and out a few times, then withdrew as abruptly as he had entered me. He then pressed my legs back to expose the underside of my ass. He picked up the crop and dealt three wicked blows to one of my hips. Even as the pain set in, he was in me again, giving me cock. Withdrawing, he pushed my legs back again and whipped the other side of my ass. The cycle was repeated again and again, until tears of pain and pleasure were pouring down my face and my teeth had sunk deep into the rubber ball. Finally, he rode me to the finish, sending me into a wonderland of orgasms and exploding within me at last.
When it was over, he removed the nipple clamps, the gag and the bonds on my wrists and legs. He rolled me over onto my stomach, and in the mirror across from the bed, I caught a glimpse of a burning sunrise on the bottom of my ass and the backs of my legs. My master touched my bottom, and his touch was cold. He rubbed soothing cream into my flaming posterior, and his tenderness brought me to tears again. Then he lay on top of me, right on top of my tender behind, with his cock pressing between the cheeks of my ass, and fell asleep.
When our weekend ended, I couldn’t bear the idea of ever leaving him, ever. We’ve been together ever since. His imagination never ceases to invent new and exciting games, and I am always eager to obey. In his service I discovered the thrills of anal sex, dangling from the ceiling, being thrashed with every implement made, being spanked in public, seducing strangers, drinking golden showers and a multitude of wild whims that I satisfy with an excitement that comes from having a master of one’s own.