0 comments/ 21961 views/ 2 favorites The Triad By: Don Rene and I were sitting at a sidewalk table in a small town near our home in Southwest Ohio drinking a flavored water when she approached us and introduced herself. She was typical of this town, a place inhabited mostly by aging hippies of the artistic type. We come here often to browse its many art and cultural shops and just for fun to count how many people were wearing Birkenstocks. She introduced herself as Kabbie, a nickname given by a college professor that just stuck. She explained that she was a sculptor who worked with clay, came to this town to visit two years ago and never left. We decided we liked Kabbie and invited her to join us at our table. She was younger than the local population, perhaps 30 something and wore a flowered blouse with faded jeans, and yes, Birkenstocks. Kabbie was interesting in her forwardness, not intrusive or loud, rather soft spoken and comfortable in the presence of those around her. Most striking was that she appeared healthy in the natural healthy aspect. Her skin was clear and glowed and her long brown hair shined and had the aroma of an herbal shampoo. She wore no accessories with the exception of a yin-yang symbol on a strip of leather hung around her thin neck. Her arms and slim body would allude to a regular exercise such as yoga or Tai Chi, not developed but sinuous and taunt. This helped to create a mutual attraction as Rene and I worked out regularly, I with weights and Rene with aerobics and stretching. Rene and I have two children and despite the pregnancies, Rene maintains a tight abdomen, and regained her pre-pregnancy breast size even though she breast-fed both children, now 2 and 4 years old. Small talk soon surfaced between the two women about our children, how we made our living, etc. Kabbie had volunteered that she had been married briefly but had no children. I listened casually and commented when appropriate. Before any of us noticed, over two hours had passed. Kabbie invited us to visit her studio three blocks away above a new age bookstore where she lived and worked. I said that I would love to visit an artist's studio. Rene agreed and off we walked, stopping to look at various art pieces on display in shop windows, many of them Kabbie's work, consigned by the storekeeper. Her knowledge of art kept us interested and her open humor made us feel even more comfortable. I could tell that Rene and I liked Kabbie and that a new friendship was in the making. We arrived at the bookstore and followed Kabbie to a door which opened to a narrow staircase leading upstairs. In single file we ascended the steps to a large warehouse style wooden door which Kabbie opened after unlocking three locks. "Can't be to safe," she said as she ushered us in. "Welcome to my home, messy though it is, this is my life," Kabbie said with a smile. The loft was absolutely huge! Hanging on the spacious, mostly wooden walls were prints of paintings by such artists as Klimet, Rousseau, Van Gogh, and others I did not recognize. Clay was almost everywhere, in works finished, unfinished or just spattered about. Most of the hangings and statues were of nudes, both male and female or phallic and one collection, on wooden shelves hanging on one wall was nothing but penises, all shapes and sizes and states of flaccidness or erection. The loft was divided into living and work areas by folding panels and well lit by track lights and modern pole lamps. Rene and I were mesmerized not only by the art she openly displayed but by how she turned this huge open loft into a living/working showcase. "You two look around while I get us another water, or would you prefer juice?" We responded in unison that juice sounded great and Kabbie disappeared. Rene and I looked around together and separately, often calling the other over to admire a piece of sculpture or painting. Kabbie seemed gone an extra long time but when she reappeared had a tray of what appeared to be a juice blend and was now barefoot. "Let's go into the living room and sit down," she said while leading us behind the only fixed wall in the loft. Once there we found a plush carpeted floor and the back wall was all window which curved upward to form half of the ceiling. Kabbie explained that the previous tenant owned a flower shop in what was now the bookstore and this had been the green house area. We also learned that the bookstore owner and Kabbie now co-owned the building. This area did not have as much art as the rest of the loft. It was well appointed with nicely upholstered furniture, appropriate table placements and large and small live houseplants. She motioned for us to have a seat on the couch then handed us our juice which was a delicious blend, obviously fresh squeezed, explaining her delayed absence. Kabbie sat in a lounger opposite us and crossed her lithe legs into a half lotus style. Conversation about her art was initiated by Rene. "We love your work Kabbie, and your displays are the most interesting I've seen." "Thank you. I hope you're not offended or uncomfortable with the erotic nature of my work." "Not at all," I replied and Rene shook her head in agreement. "Your nudes are very real, the detail phenomenal. We were wondering how you did it." "I always use live models. Most of the models are from the college here in town, students who need the money and some art students volunteer their time for class credit." She continued by adding that the human figure was her favorite subject. "Though we are basically the same, no two of us are alike and even tomorrow you will not be the shape or color or mood that you are today. Nudes are often the most difficult subject to capture and do justice to the inherent beauty." I wanted to ask about the penises on the shelves but thought better to contain my curiosity. Kabbie went on to explain. "Now take the genitalia. Every vagina has it's uniqueness and as well no two penises are alike. I sometimes take weeks to capture the mood of a female breast to convey a perkiness or tired sag, or a happy fullness and nipples are just as important. A penis can contradict itself from day to day. That's the joy of nudes, not just shape but the mood of that shape." Rene asked Kabbie if she had ever done a mother and child project. Kabbie replied that she had not, but with a kind of long thoughtful exhale, "But you know, that's a wonderful idea." Rene added that she had seen many of the Goddess or Madonna and Child sculptures but nothing really modern, such as a child suckling to celebrate breast feeding. Put in another light it could represent bonding. Kabbie was getting excited and her eyes conveyed that the idea was solidifying in her head. "'That's great Rene, but I'd like to take it a step further and add the father figure to represent a more complete idea of the family bond, you know, the triad." "Yea, that's more complete. The mother/child bond is most often represented, fathers are too often dismissed. You should do it, you really should. But where would you find the models?" "It would have to be a real family, one that shares that bond and who of course are comfortable with nudity and who have the time for the sitting. It takes quite a while and I never rush a project to completion. I accept no deadlines." There was silence. I knew what Rene was thinking and she knew what I was thinking. It was Kabbie who brought it into the open. "Come on you guys, you'd be perfect. I can see you both take care of your bodies. Rene, you have breast fed, and I can tell that your family bond is very strong. Have you ever modeled?" "No, but I admit it sounds challenging and fun," Rene responded. "I think it would be great to try," I said, "But our children have grown out the breast feeding stage so there's a model missing." I didn't want to make excuses but how could we model without an infant? "Rene, I know a place where we can get a very life like doll. Do you think the feeling would come back to you with a prop, not your own child?" "I think so. All I have to do is think of breast feeding my babies and all those wonderful memories come back and I want to do it again. I miss those moments." Rene was smiling just thinking of breast feeding her little ones. "A small detail overcome then. How about it guys, please say you will, I want to do this. Pleeease." Kabbie was excited and I didn't think she would accept no for an answer. Rene and I looked at each other and we both knew we wanted to do this. Other problems entered my mind, and as I relayed them, Rene fielded them like a project manager. She was as excited about this as Kabbie. That sealed it, we decided to sit. Kabbie was already on the phone insuring she could procure enough materials and making schedule adjustments. A date was agreed on and then it was time for Rene and I to start for home. Kabbie advised that we have a good breakfast, and to be prepared to sit for 3 hours or so on the first session. Without hesitation we exchanged hugs with Kabbie and headed down the staircase and back to our car. The next visit had been arranged for the following Saturday when Grandma would be willing to keep the kids for the day. Rene and I showed up at Kabbie's promptly at 11:00am. My knock at her large loft door resounded as though I had banged. Kabbie soon appeared dressed in a button down oxford shirt and what appeared to be pants belonging to a karate ghee. A yoga blanket was on the floor in the middle of the work area, confirming my thoughts from our first encounter. "Hi you two, please come in, I'm all ready for you. Are you well rested and ready to experiment with a few poses?" Rene responded "I'm so excited, I couldn't wait for the week to end." I faked a big yawn, attempting to be facetious. Kabbie promptly hit me on the shoulder and smiled as she said "Oh, stop it now." "Let's go into the living room and sit while we talk," Kabbie suggested. "Would either of you care for something to drink, coffee, herbal tea or juice?" We just finished a late breakfast and indicated that we were fine. "First off guys we need to lay some ground rules, so to speak. The most important is that we can't rush this process. It will take however long it takes." We shook our heads in unison as we listened to Kabbie explain how she liked to work and assured Rene and I that we needed to be as comfortable as possible because posing for long periods would be tiring. All we were going to do today was experiment with different poses and Kabbie would be taking Polaroid pictures of each. We would then decide together which pose would become the final work of art. Kabbie excused herself explaining that she was going to turn the heat up as she didn't want us to get cold and that she needed to change into some work clothes. She pointed to a coat rack where two terrycloth robes had been placed and suggested we remove our clothes and put the robes on to begin with. She left the room as we began to undress. Returning several minutes later, Kabbie was wearing only a mid-thigh length light denim shirt. "I hope you don't mind, the heat is up so you won't get a chill and I dress light so as not to get too hot." "That makes perfect sense," Rene said. "Well then, if your ready, let's go to the platform and try some poses, shall we?" Kabbie led us to the center of the work area where a plywood platform box had been placed. "Go ahead and remove your robes and I'll hang them over here," pointing to two wooden pegs on a nearby wooden beam. We both disrobed, passing them to Kabbie's outstretched hands. "Go ahead and move onto the platform and we'll set up the first pose." Kabbie hung up the robes and Rene and I stepped onto the blanketed platform. Kabbie turned in place, a thoughtful look on her face. "Rene, why don't you sit down, just to the left of center and a little forward. Now Dean, you kneel behind and to the right of Rene. That's good." She began to laugh and said "We totally forgot about the baby!" Kabbie's laugh was infectious and both Rene and I couldn't help but join her even though the absence of the infant was not that funny. I have to admit that I was a little uncomfortable with my nakedness, having not been nude before another woman since marrying Rene and the laughter settled me. Rene didn't seem the slightest bit bothered by our nudity. Kabbie went to a box near her and produced the most life like, anatomically correct infant doll I had ever seen. She walked over and handed it to Rene. It was a boy, circumcised and it's mouth open, perfect for placing over Renes nipple. "Where on earth did you find this, it's perfect?," asked Rene. "From a friend of mind on the West Coast who runs an artists supply store, he can get the most unusual props. He had it shipped overnight for us." Rene held the doll up to her left breast and instinctively placed her nipple into the dolls open mouth. She had clearly not forgotten the art of breast feeding. Our pose had not changed except that I had placed my hand on Renes right shoulder and was looking down at her breast and the baby's head. "Yes, that's good," said Kabbie. "Don't move" She turned to retrieve a Polaroid Camera and as I looked up she was turning around causing her shirt tail to twirl a little too much. I could swear that she was wearing no underwear, or it could be that she was wearing such skimpy bikinis that it only appeared that she had nothing on underneath. As her back remained turned to us, my attention turned to her legs. Magnificent, smooth and shapely, all the way up to her ass. Kabbie was checking the film in the camera and bent over to open a drawer, removing a spare box of film when it became obvious that she indeed wore no panties. The tail of her shirt rode up far enough that I could plainly see her perfectly rounded bottom moons. She was also, quite obviously, shaven. This was a treat I thoroughly did not expect. I noticed Rene was looking up at me, having seen what I was staring at. She was smiling at me and I diverted my attention back to her pseudo breast feeding. Kabbie turned back around and with the camera to her eye surprised us with a flash and the whir of the first photo being spit out. Moving to her left, another click, flash and whir. Her hand was expertly catching slowly developing photo's as her writhe body moved about, catching different angles from front to back and various top and side angles. On one angle to my right profile she instructed me to move back slightly, taking one shot from a distance and another closer, the camera being aimed directly at my semi-flaccidness. I noticed her smile as she backed away. "OK, relax a little while I re-load film and we'll position another pose." Kabbie said while looking over the dozen or so shots fanned out in her hand. She went to a nearby makeshift table of plywood and sawhorses. As she leaned forward to spread the photo's her shirt rose up again. This time Rene and I looked at each other and smiled. I was hoping I wouldn't rise up at Kabbie's erotic display. "OK, there's one pose, my Polaroid is full. Now, let's see, Rene come around to the opposite corner and Dean, instead of being behind her looking down, try lying down with your back to me and prop your head up to look at the baby. OK, but keep your legs straight, not bent. Good." Fewer shots were taken of this pose, then she had Rene lie down to feed the doll while I sort of spooned in behind her, propping my head up to look down and across her shoulder. To get the right angle for this series of photo's Kabbie found it necessary to squat more. She made no attempt to hide herself as her shirt bunched up near her abdomen. Often she lowered herself to one knee. I knew my job was to look at my infant son being breast fed but between flashes my eyes couldn't help but stray to a clear view, sometimes fully open view of Kabbie. With her looking through the view finder she had to know I was looking at her but she didn't seem concerned. The problem I was having however was having this great view as well as being beside my naked wife, against her warm ass, I was now hard as steel. Rene couldn't contain her awareness any longer and pressed back against me slightly. I knew it wouldn't go down before changing positions again. After maybe half a dozen shots in that pose, Kabbie suggested I sit up near the middle of Renes back and place my left hand on her hip. Oh no, there was nothing I could do but be embarrassed. I sat up, and stood out. Kabbie could not have helped but notice, but to her professional credit did not even crack a smile. But I know the last 2 or 3 photo's had a full view of me. Several other poses were directed by Kabbie and more pictures taken. "Wow, out of film again," Kabbie chuckled. "Why don't we take 15 minutes or so to get up and stretch, give us a chance to look at these poses and work the kinks out, or whatever," the last part being said while looking straight at me with a smile. I asked where the bathroom was which Kabbie pointed out, luckily, to be behind me. I stood and turned in one motion and literally swaggered to the door. I wondered if my ass was as red as my face probably was. I returned from the bathroom surprised to find Rene fully dressed and she and Kabbie having already decided on the pose to use. I thought we would have experimented with several more. They choose one of Rene seated with me behind her, fully erect and in plain view. "Do you like the one we picked Baby?" Rene asked. "Yea, that's great, uh, looks good to me." "Looks real good to me," Kabbie said. "In fact it looks very good, very good. She smiled directly at Rene and both women smiled, knowing what Kabbie was referring to. The decision having been made we called it a day. Out next session would be Wednesday and we should be ready to sit in that pose much longer. The actual work was to begin. The ride home was about 30 minutes. We were silent for perhaps 10 minutes when Rene asked if I was embarrassed. "Embarrassed, why?" I said. "You know, your erection." "Well, I have to admit, I was a little. But geez, I couldn't help it." "I know, and I want you to know, it's ok. But let me ask, was it being close to me or those beaver shots of Kabbie?" "Mostly you. Especially at first, but as she became more visible, that did it." "Can't blame you there Dean. I doubt many men could repress a hard-on with the view Kabbie has. I have to admit, surprisingly, I enjoyed her view too. She has a very pretty one doesn't she?" "Yes, a very pretty one. But let's change the subject, I'm getting another hard-on." "What do you say we go home before picking up the kids?" Rene looked at me smiling. Over the next few days leading to Wednesday, nothing was said concerning Kabbie's peep show or of the upcoming session. On Wednesday morning however, a renewed excitement blossomed as we took the kids to their grandmother's and headed to Kabbie's loft. Passing through the bookstore we had some time to kill so browsed the shelves. Rene found a wonderful title on sculpture with several large color plates. We bought the book and talked with the bookstore owner who was very friendly and talked highly of Kabbie's talents and smiled knowingly, it seemed ,as we departed for upstairs. Rene thought the smile might have been a knowing hint that we had no underwear on, Renes idea of not having lines in our skin during the pose. Kabbie heard us coming and her loft door opened before we ascended the stairs. She stood in the doorway, a striking sight, wearing a mid thigh robe of the material a smoking jacket would be made, aqua colored with a passion flower pattern. "Hey you two, welcome back." Hugs were given and I could tell Kabbie wore no bra from the feel of her nipples against my chest. I had the feeling this would be another day of failed attempts to shun erections. Kabbie had tea prepared and filled our cups on the make shift plywood work table where the photo's of the chosen pose were laid out. This was the first time I looked closely at them and I did like the pose they choose. My attention was drawn to my fully exposed, fully erect penis in each photo. Man, how embarrassing. As I was looking at them Rene told me I was turning red. Both women laughed as I put the photo's back on the table. The Trial My name is Michael. And I write for women. I write for those women that are bored or sadly underappreciated in their roles; especially their sexual roles. I write especially for those women who are frightfully inhibited but hiding a secret, insatiable, submissive fantasy side. Do you yearn to be in the grasp of a man who is strong and masculine, magnetic, mysterious, successful, powerful, confident and dominant as well as sexually pleasing? I write for women who imagine themselves possessed by such a man...a man who is strong and confident enough to lead her, teach her, possess her, exhibit her and control her. If you yearn to be the exhibited trophy on the arm of a man that fits that description...If you wish to be totally submissive, yet fully satisfied emotionally and sexually...if you wish to be totally dominated, yet erotically secure and appreciated...I write for you and to you I say.... Ahhhh my little pet...so you want to play; do you? Let us now "play" with your imagination. You first play rule is this... Recall the significance of the slave collar? Well, to hide your fantasy secrets, let us symbolically substitute a silk choker for the collar. Whenever you read my stories, wear a silk choker that signifies to us both my possession of you and that you agree to submit, (in your imagination), to whatever naughty, nasty schemes I've cooked up for you! Wear nothing, 'cept for your choker...and the highest, sexiest, sluttiest heels that you own. Don't simply pretend to comply! That would only lessen your own excitement level...and the purpose of my writing is centered around raising your excitement level...around stimulating your mind as well as your body. If you are timid or sexually bored and hiding secret fantasy desires, then I know you! You don't want to live day-to-day with that sameness...with that dullness...with that shyness...with that inhibition any longer. No, you are hiding too much woman for that boring existence. You want and need to live on the edge. Your psyche (which you hide), is erotic...uninhibited...and insatiable. I know that and so do you. Oh Yes...you may play the prim and proper innocent in real life...but you and I know that two animals lurk within you. The one you display is a timid, kitten-like creature that meekly protects herself from hurt by covering her features, her emotions, her passions, cravings and desires from others. The second creature, hidden within, is a sleek, erotic panther that has an intense appetite for passion, excitement, pleasure and lust. You hide an uninhibited, insatiable, cock-craving, cum-seeking, submissive, owned and obedient slut seeking to escape. And I am the persuasive power...the sinister purpose that is your gateway to that end! In my stories, I shall own your sweet ass and write only to you. There, your soaking wet, shivering pussy is no longer yours. In your imagination, it is my possession. .My pussy. You merely safe-keep it for me. And, you are mine to do with as I please. You may cavort with "sweet men" in real life...but I'll be the devil incarnate that you so desperately desire for your fantasy life...creating a livable balance! Know this...I have no desire to hurt you but I have every desire to soothe, satisfy, stimulate and excite you. The choker and heels...be symbolically obedient... The mind is an incredible sexual organ. Use it...let your imagination run wild my dear! Now, take a deep breath and read on if you dare. God created you, but I discovered and converted you. I'll bet God considers you one of His greatest accomplishments; I know I consider the "converted you" one of mine. But, although I suspect creating you; and I know discovering you was relatively easy, "converting" you was not without tribulations. We met when you were working at one of the many businesses I buy, develop, grow and trade. I won't discuss the position you held, (its irrelevant), but you generally dressed ultra-conservatively; in baggy sweaters and slacks or long bulky dresses and flat shoes that did nothing to accentuate your long, lithe legs. In general, you infrequently made eye contact and if you did, you did so shyly. You seldom shared any aspect of your life. I'm sure you'd had sex, but I overheard other girls in the office suggesting that they thought you might be at the very least, frigid and quite possibly a virgin. But I saw something in you. Under the unflattering clothing, behind the shy, innocent demeanor, I saw a lean and potentially sultry physique and classic beauty. Your huge sparkling eyes, (clearly one of your best features), hinted at wildness and I was intrigued by the ultra feminine, shimmering flutter of your long delicate lashes and the craving desire that was so apparent. The few times we spoke, you showed intense nervousness, but I enjoyed your breathy voice and the naïve, but curious nature that you unconsciously showed. Then it started. Secretly, you sent me flirty e-mail messages, signing innocently, anonymous only as "Kat." Your secret messages suggested wild fantasies and desires for erotic play and let it be known that I had a secret admirer who'd do just about anything to spend a night in my company. But as I spare no expense in employing the finest MIS experts, it wasn't difficult to secretly track you down. I suspected it was you all along, but I had an interest before. Anyways, it didn't take much effort for me to uncover what you tried to hide. You were secretly willing and eager but hiding your passionate desires. Boldly, I'd cupped your ass in a crowded elevator to test your resolve even as I kept secret the fact that I was onto you. You barely resisted. Me? Although I wish to be modest, I would be remiss if I didn't describe myself in honest terms. I was wealthy of course, but both appealing and unappealing men can be wealthy. No, I was not only wealthy, but powerful, seductive, masculine and bold. Tall, dark, and lean, I dressed in the finest Italian tailored suits and kept my athletic body in toned, supple shape by working out everyday. The cologne I wore was the most alluring, appealing scent you'd ever inhaled. My hair; jet black was always well-kept, but kept just long and thick enough to cover my collar and tickle my ears, and just wild and enough to suggest an untamed, unpredictable side. And my sparkling, sapphire-blue eyes penetrated and mesmerized and I always; ALWAYS maintained direct and powerful eye-contact. I worked hard, but spent ample free time on the Riviera or in the Bahamas, where I had time to; and cultivated and kept a near-perfect tan. But it was the powerful, dominant, confident attitude that most appealed to you. That, and the rumors that suggested I had a secret side. One rumor monger in the office insisted that I was a member of a secret Dominance and Submission Realm. Maybe true; maybe not. But it made for good drama and grew my reputation. Another rumor suggested I had a twelve inch long cock and knew how to use it. The first rumor was supported by the beautiful, exotic and mysterious women that came-and-went when I was in attendance. The second rumor was often supported by the massive bulge in my trousers that you occasionally caught a glimpse of. Both rumors certainly appealed to, and heightened your secret desires and those of the others. Yes, the others...your suggestive hints of attraction were not the only ones I received from a female employee...just the most currently appealing to me. Your innocence and potential (and yours alone), truly excited me. Anyways, there came a point where I acted upon the signals you were sending and invited you to my mansion. (see my 1st story, "Sweetness, This One's for You.") But when I did ask you, I set the terms; terms which drew you out of your shell, tested your confidence, satisfied your secret cravings and validated my suspicions about you and yours about me and the rumors about my dominant side and my "endowment." Before the first time we shared a night, I tested your potential worthiness. In no uncertain terms I defined your "required" attire and talked you through two masturbation sessions over your cell phone; once where you exposed yourself in a cab and once to an earth-shattering orgasm in the dressing room at a well-known department store. For our first date, I left no doubts about my intentions and you left no doubts as to your hidden charms and secret, unfulfilled cravings. For that date, I boldly ordered you to shave your pussy, dress in your shortest skirt, your choker and your highest heels, and to arrive otherwise pantyless. Regarding the panties; you let me down. Otherwise you obeyed. I tied you, and lightly paddled your ass for the indiscretion, before I fucked you in every hole and in every imaginable position, and covered you in cum. You had no control, and loved every minute of it. You were everything I suspected and I satisfied every sense in your body for being that. In general, I don't have any great desire to spank a Submissive, but it aroused you more than I anticipated, and you gave every hint of totally enjoying it and lightly hinted for another such session. Later that night, I explained the boundaries and the rules. My number one expectation of you was that you never wear panties and always wear your choker signifying my possession and the shortest skirts and highest heels in my presence. I explained that those rules were designed to provide easy and swift access at a moment's notice, to arouse desire in other men and envy in other women, to enliven your experiences, to heighten your own arousal as a prelude to foreplay and to grow your confidence. I insisted upon abstinence at your own hand, (no masturbation), unless I gave my permission or unless I demanded you do so to entertain me. I also explained that total obedience regarding any additional deed was expected. In turn, I committed to make your pleasure my ultimate goal...to strive to heighten your arousal by extending your anticipation, activating all your senses and heightening your excitement, growing your experiences and your imagination...objectives leading to the ultimate goal...your total, sexual satisfaction and fulfillment and sense of possessed security. You would be my fuck-toy, and Sweetness....I take VERY GOOD CARE of my toys! Initially, I tested you with simple deeds. There was the time I sent you, dressed provocatively in your shortest skirt and highest heels, (and panty-less) to the oil-change garage while leaving your panties lying on the floor in front of the passenger seat. The mechanics loved that show; (although they stole your panties), and you uncontrollably flowed cream down the insides of your thighs even as you trembled while there. And there was the time I ordered you to pick-out and apply temporary tattoos of a symbolic nature to test your imagination. You passed that test. You choose to apply them over, around and to your pussy lips...images of wild, erotic flowers that made your pussy look like a widely opened bloom. What fuck and suck sessions we had after. And, lastly, I explained that from that point forward, your sweet pussy was mine and mine alone! Not yours; but mine...to do with as I pleased...both you and it! There were other deeds I required you to perform in order to earn your "rewards." Each got progressively more erotic and more testing. Most of the time you pleased me and I rewarded you. Alone together, or walked through a task, you complied and we fucked and sucked the night away. And your public dress and demeanor grew progressively more alluring, (which I approved of.) You became more confident, sultry and slinky, naughty and bold with each deed; each session. And I began to call you, "Kat" as a compliment to those features and as a play on the two animals that lurk within you...the kitten and the tigress! But, as your confidence grew, you did begin to display a slightly rebellious, (or authority challenging) proclivity for light disobedience. And on those rare, but disconcerting occasions, you'd sing, "Why don't you spank me, Master?" "Master!" You started using the word. I'de never felt the need or desire to before. Which brings us to the present... ...My house Kat...it is to my house in your imagination that I now take you. You've gotten a glimpse of it from my first posted story...the tall, erotic, gothic mansion behind a wrought iron fence...a large dark and foreboding entry way, with a long, winding staircase...my house has ten rooms....only one of which you've seen before, (the Master bedroom). Tonight you visit the parlor. Perhaps we should call it my "lair" instead, for it and the rest of the house are massive, dark and foreboding...in some ways terrifying and dungeon-like and in other ways, seductively stimulating...especially to one with your fantasy desires. And you? Well I have you in my grasp and under my power, like a fly in the spider's web. You approach my "lair" from the hallway, having walked slowly and deliberately from the main entrance of my home, while removing and dropping your long, covering coat and while nearly hypnotized by the loud echoing click of your hot-red, six-inch stiletto heels on the hard-wood floors. That click, the pounding of your heart and the sound of your own lust-craved voice I your head are the only noises you hear. Dressed only in your hottest lingerie and my sexy choker, you teeter on the heights of those nasty-girl heels. Timid fear floods your face, your hands shake uncontrollably and your lips tremble until you bite down upon the lower one. You slowly open the heavy, wide door, peer around the corner and timidly step inside. The door loudly slams shut behind you making you nearly jump into the room. Once you've regained your composure, you slowly scan the castle-like enclave. Above your head you see a very high, cathedral ceiling with an overlooking balcony and behind the balcony, more doors to still other rooms you've not yet visited. This "lair;" this parlor contains wide oaken cross-beams high above your head, and from one centrally-located beam, a set of long, silk cords hangs nearly to the floor below. The walls are adorned with warm tapestries...the floors, are made of rich, red oak planks that are lacquered to a slick, shiny, glass-like consistency. The huge, wide windows are covered by crimson-red velvet curtains with gold, rope sashes. All the curtains are closed, making all the heat in the room feel as if it is focused upon you...or is the heat you feel merely rising from your tepid body. Your nipples torturously ache with desire and your pussy, (my possession), is damp, betraying your hopes and cravings. What seems like a mile away, in the farthest stretches across the room...I sit. I sit in a large, deep-cushioned chair just to the side of a huge, roaring fireplace. A thick and foreboding bearskin rug lies at my feet. The bear's eyes stare hungrily back at you. The room is lit only by the warm glow of the fireplace and sweetly scented candles. The fireplace, and to a lesser extent, the candles, flicker violently and cast a swelteringly warm, and fierce-orange flicker around the room that only occasionally and unpredictably lights your delicate features. The candles smell so sweet that you can almost taste their essence...but what you really taste on your sexy tongue is your hungry lust...MY pussy that you safe keep for me aches for release...and your mind is numb from the urgent desire that floods your imagination. In your mind's eye, you see me overpowering you and you see Cock...my cock invading your mouth and your cunt! Penetrating, punishing, pleasing. You also see you...pleading insatiably for more! Soft, erotic music plays in the background, so sensual, that your body and mind flow in subtle unity with the sweet harmonies you hear and the acoustics in the room are superb. The rhythm of the music swirls in soothing circles around your head and into your ears, and resonates and vibrates over and across your torrid flesh. It seems to seep into your pores and makes the intensity that you feel and the desire you currently possess almost unbearable. Intoxicating, inebriating, invigorating! Your huge, baby-doe eyes, framed by the luscious, fluttering lashes scan the huge parlor, glaring deep into the shadows searching for that which you crave, that which you anticipate...the object of your lust. Then you see me! I am shirtless; the dark hair on my virile chest bristling in masculine grandeur. I am barefoot, and I am pant-less. My huge cock bulges, straining hard and standing rigidly at attention. The tool clearly evident,, thick and fierce, makes you shiver in eager greed. You've had the massive member between your pussy lips before and you crave it's filling, talented impact on your flesh and on your senses once again. Your delicate, lipstick-covered mouth opens in wide wonder and you slowly lick your lips with a nervous, yet conscious and so obvious desire to taste my cock. Your eyes fixate on it and your hands drop to your side and tug at the hem on your bustier. Unconsciously that act signals submission; surrender. You take one quick step towards me then stop suddenly; seemingly waiting for permission...such a submissive little slut! I lean back confidently in my chair, grasping a long, cool bottle of corked champagne in one hand, and a riding crop in the other. The crop carries a small leather tip approximately 2 inches wide, by two inches long...and the handle appears to be whippet fresh and pliable...the type of crop that bends easily and snaps back viciously with each flick of a masculine wrist and forearm. Each of my wrists rest on a widely spaced knee...the path to your treasure; (my cock), widely open to your view, like a hot dessert canyon! My dark countenance is shadowed by the flickering light of the nearby fireplace, but my deep penetrating blue eyes sparkle radiantly and dance devilishly in that light. Above the fireplace, upon the marble mantle rests a long clock, ticking loud and incessant in your ears. In rhythm with the ticking of the erotic timepiece, I tap the crop lightly down my shin and to the floor. Mounted above the time clock is a long painting of a naked girl, lying on her stomach...her head down, ass high and legs spread. Focusing on her image through the dim of this castle-like room, you suddenly realize that the choker adorning her neck matches yours, and the face; tilted towards the side, her eyes closed and mouth open...the face is you Kat! And then you notice! In the painting, your ass is red-welted, and with your ass high in the air and your legs spread, you probe your dripping snatch and caress your rigid pink nipples...with long, lithe fingers tipped with blue, nail-polished nails! You gasp, and your mouth falls open. Swiftly, you hold out your own, real hands and extend your fingers! "He knew all along. How could he be so certain?" you whisper to yourself as you gaze upon the blue nail polish adorning your real fingers. Shocked, you stand motionless and your mind flashes back...flashes back to a session nearly three months ago.......... ...Yes, nearly three months ago...You'd been mildly, but annoyingly disobedient on some occasions...you were often too nervous, too inhibited, and yes, perhaps even too strong-willed to comply fully. Based on your early promise, I had taken you as my Slave...a sexual fuck-toy; a possession you truly desired, but each incident of disobedience raised doubt as to your worthiness and your commitment to that end and served to push the contest of wills toward an impending climactic release. And it happened thus: I had ordered you to dress in a naughty black tube-dress I provided, (an exceedingly short, tight, form-fitting, curve-hugging tiny slip of cloth) and to wear no bra or panties underneath. Under that dress, a bra would be unfashionable; and on my Submissive, panties would be unconscionable! I'd also ordered you to wear exceedingly high-heels, tiny, white-frilly ankle socks and your "submission-signaling" black choker...and nothing else. The Trial Tonight was it, the time of her final trial. For months Gina had made her way up the appropriate social ladders, doing anything and everything she'd been told just for this chance. Some of what she'd been forced to do made her body flush with shame; she couldn't think of those nights with any comfort or ease. And the sadistic pleasure those ... those ... those creatures had taken in her shame and degradation. But it was all worth it. The antechamber she waited in was an odd dichotomy of modern simplicity and old fashioned lushness. The lines of the few pieces of furniture were clean and the walls uncluttered. The colors and textures though were vibrant and striking. A wide deep couch looked softer than her bed at home and was upholstered in a deep chocolate brown that popped against the neutral gray color pallet of the room. All of this was noted from under lowered lashes. So too was the competition. She and two other girls kneeled in a row, each clad only in a sheer blue gown. Though calling it a gown was a bit of an exaggeration as the garment came down to the top of each girl's bare cunt and was nearly transparent. The girl to right of her was a demure-looking brunette with modest curves. The way she held her body and the subtle trembling spoke of innocence that was surprising considering what was to come. On the left was a wild looking red-head. Gina had been able to get a look at her before they were given instruction to wait. She was older than Gina by a few years and exuded a confidence that made Gina feel like a raw virgin on her wedding night. Gina herself was short and trim with long blonde hair to the middle of her back. None of them were very sure how long they had been kneeling there. There were no clocks, no windows to mark the passage of time. When they had arrived they were told to strip and were given the new garments. In a dispassionate voice the attendant instructed them to kneel with eyes lowered to the floor and that any movement before they were instructed would mean an automatic failure. The brunette was starting to fidget ever so slightly; how had she made it this far? There was nothing from the red-head on the other side. The door at the far end of the room opened and each girl gasped softly, reflexively. The air seemed thicker, charged with electricity almost. She could feel it running over her skin, tickling her flesh, causing her pulse to stutter then race. Soft desperate sobs escaped from the brunette. Gina couldn't have looked anywhere but at the floor before her. Her very being seemed to be fixed in place, balanced on a knife's edge. As she kneeled there, transfixed, a pair of bare male feet came into her view. Was the red-head shaking? It felt like it. Before another thought could be completed he spoke. "I told you never to come here again." His voice was a rich baritone without comparison. No matter what he said he would have to be obeyed, the compulsion was that strong. However it was his words that sent a tremor of panic racing through Gina. He couldn't be speaking to her could he? This was the first time she'd been here after all. "Please don't let him be speaking to me," was her frantic repetitive thought. The red-head began stammering, begging and pleading. Her tearful cries stopped suddenly and the red head stood and walked from the room with the demeanor of someone going to their death. The sobs from brunette grew louder at red-head's dismissal. Had they been friends? But then the god spoke again. His words caused Gina's heart to stutter to a painful stop. "Little one you are not ready. Go now and return when you have properly prepared yourself." The near gentleness was a sharp contrast to the cold steel of his tone when he had dismissed to the red-head. With every muscle in her body tense, a single thought screamed through Gina's mind. "I have failed. Oh god I have failed." The surprise of the brunette standing to leave was a shock equal to a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Her pulse slammed back into high speed. "And then there was one." Silently he moved closer. By all the gods was that scent coming from him? It spoke of dark hot nights spent in the grips of lust so primal it was the stuff of legends. Her nipples hardened under the see-through fabric and her cunt tightened. Conscious thought slipped away till only need remained. "Oh gods please," Gina nearly whimpered, unaware that she spoke aloud. "Please what girl?" In her confusion she was unable to answer immediately. A large hand wrapped around her ponytail and yanked her head back. "Look at me" came the stern command. Instantly her eyes flicked up to his face. As her eyes focused she moaned aloud, "Oh dear gods." He was easily 6 and a half feet tall, muscles clearly defined and very well developed. His dark hair was cut short along the sides and back but left a little longer across the top. His eyes though. They were dark if not black but seemed to blaze with an internal light. It reminded her of a banked fire that could flare to full intensity at any time. Those eyes caught her and held her as they delved into the very depths of her soul. Nothing was hidden from that gaze. "Exactly. Well just one of them really." He voice was lightly mocking as his grip tightened in her hair, bringing her focus back to the here and now. "Now, please what girl? Do not make me repeat myself." She straightened her spine, finding her purpose once more. She was good, she knew she was good, she'd proven just how good. Now was the time to prove it for the ultimate reward because even though she was the only one left she could still be sent away like the others. And that was not going to happen if she had anything to say about it. "Please let me serve you Sir. I crave to sink my mouth around your cock till my lips are wrapped around the base and you are buried balls-deep in my throat. I want to give over every inch of my body and soul to your pleasure Sir." Her voice was pure seduction. Closely she watched his reaction. His dark eyes flared with heat as her words hit his libido. The hand fisted in her hair pulled, drawing her up till her back was straight. It was clear that he was all about control. With their eyes locked his free hand moved to his jeans. With agile fingers he had the button fly open and his cock in his fist before she could be sure his hand had moved. "You think you have what it takes little slut?" In her peripheral vision she could see his hand moving up and down 8 thick hard inches of cock. Without her conscious thought her mouth fell open and a small needy gasp escaped her throat. His mocking laugh reached her through the overwhelming need she had for his cock. "Oh does the little slut see something she likes?" "Yes Sir," was all she could reply. Teasingly he slid the head across her lips, watching as she strained against his painful grip in her effort to get her lips around the organ. He pulled her head back a fraction of inch to remind her who was in control as he slipped just the head into her mouth. With a moan she leaned forward, desperate for more. With a growl he jerked her head back, pulling her away from his dick. "Understand this slut. If you move again without instruction or permission and you will go the way of the red head." His voice is hard and cold and devoid of any emotion. Panic spears her chest as she quickly acknowledges the order. "Now you fucking whore, keep your eyes on mine." And without warning he shoves his cock deep into her mouth. His voice is a rough growl. "Suck!" he ordered as he pulled back, only to shove deep again, fucking her mouth roughly. Her eyes remained locked to his as she fought for air while keeping her mouth tight as a vacuum around his plunging shaft. Her tongue worked along the underside, fluttering and flicking wildly. Mindlessly she hums and moaned around his dick. Her instinct is to reach up and cup his balls in her hands but damned if she's going to fail now. Instead she focuses her entire being into servicing the cock fucking into the back of her throat. She can't stop the cry of loss when he pulled her off his cock. Without a sound or word he drags her over to the couch and shoves her face first into the cushions. "Get that fucking ass up in the air bitch." He ordered, grabbing her roughly by the hips and yanking her into the desired position. With a primal grunt he slammed his cock inside, pushing deep into her clenching pussy. A groan of lust rumbled from his chest as he fucked her. "That's it slut, grip my cock with your cunt. Show me why I should keep you as my fucking pet. I'm going to get you a little studded collar and chain you to my fucking bed like a dog." His words were punctuated with loud harsh grunts. "Maybe I'll bring that little brunette back. You can watch me defile and use her. And if you beg prettily enough I may let you suck my cum from her cunt." The sound of his hand smacking her ass filled the room. "Would you like that you fucking whore? Is that what you came here for?" She was past the ability to speak. All she could do was hold on and ride out the storm of his need. The energy that tickled across her skin before had become a lash, biting along her back, arms and legs. Hot cream drips from around his pounding cock. The stinging slap came again. "Well bitch, I asked you a question. You'd better fucking answer me." Each word punctuated with a smack to her ass. She groaned and fought for the words, barely coherent. "Yes Sir. Please do whatever you want with me. Use me however you wish Sir." With a startled cry her head was yanked back as he grunts/growls at her. "Cum for your new master you fucking bitch!" She screamed in response, shaking and trembling before him as the throes of climax gripped her. All the while he pounded over and over into her, fucking her through the rush of orgasm, giving her senses no quarter, no chance to recover. He drove one last time into her body and emptied his balls into her convulsing pussy. Her wordless screams echoed and complimented his roar. He looked down at the sweat covered girl still trembling under him, wondering which of his disciples found her. They would be rewarded for a job well done. Almost gently he urged her off the couch to kneel in front of him again. "Clean me," He ordered and using her mouth only, she obeyed. After a few minutes he urged mouth off his cock, motioning for her to kneel once again. "You pass the trial. Are you prepared for what comes next?" he asks firmly. He wants there to be no mistaking that he is the one in control. "Yes my Lord God." She responds clearly. He nods his approval. "Follow, hands and knees pet," he orders and walks back to the door he'd entered through, never looking back to see if she followed. As they enter the next room the door closes behind them. The two halves meet to complete a stylized cypress tree. He is Hades, Lord of the Underworld and Gina's new God and Master.