3 comments/ 44907 views/ 0 favorites The Word Ch. 01 By: QuietMom30s The word... Slipping through the silver strands of moonlight, his form was as dark as the deepest woodland shadows. A practiced, silent, tread carried him slowly towards his destination. Through the gaps in the thick underbrush, his blue-gray eyes could occasionally catch glimpses of the brightly-lit structure that waited at the top of the hill. Clouds, as silent in their passage as he had been in his, covered the full moon. The spreading gloom suits both his mood and his purpose. It had been months since she had been this relaxed, refreshed, alive. For once, the lingering pain and humiliation of her divorce seemed to have drained away with the warm waters of her bath. Perhaps it was the wine; or perhaps it was a true healing – no matter its cause, a long sought after calm had settled over her this evening. Catching a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror of her dressing room – she paused. Her skin glowed with the soft pink vibrancy of a rose petal. The years had been kind to her, she knew, a subtle repayment for the awkwardness of her youth. There she stood, in the glass, the fullness of her form complimented by its youthful firmness. Lingering a moment longer – she allows herself the indulgence of the touch of her small, soft, hands. Cupping the weight of her breasts; she knows – for the first time in a long time – she is ready to move forward with her life. To call it a house would fail to capture the vibrancy of the building that now stood before him. A warm glow of comfort flowed freely from the many windows that looked out over the hill slope he had ascended. This dwelling was indeed a home – a living shelter filled with the quiet comfort of tender love. As he waited patiently in the shadows of the garden his thoughts drifted back through the whirlwind of the past few months and roamed freely forward in time to the changes that he know would be driven by this night's events. His silent reflections were broken by movement within the house. As he watched, the reality of the situation filled him with a calm quiet confidence. A sense of power, control, destiny, surged through him. This was his time, his night, his moment, the perfect culmination of months of careful cultivation. He could feel the steady beat of his pulse surging through his loins. Slipping the blackness of his hood over his head he knew, as clearly as he had ever known anything, fate was his to control tonight. Amid the soft sweet strains of jazz, she filled her wineglass again. Not bothering with clothing, she had moved from her bath, to her kitchen, to her den. Stepping closer, she could feel the warmth of the fireplace that awaited her. Caring not for the shadows she cast on the windows overlooking her garden, she sipped the fine California merlot and basked in her newfound contentment. Sitting on the floor, her feet drawn under the curve of her flank, her mind wandered to the thoughts, dreams, fantasies that had slowly seeped into her consciousness. Without realization, her fingertips played over large, taught nipples then sensuously descended across her belly only to rest against the silky smoothness between her thighs. His journey had been easy, perhaps too easy. With silent precision, he now stood only a pace behind her. The darkness of his clothing standing in sharp contrast to the soft and happy brightness flowing from the fire and the several candles scattered about the room. With the suddenness of a viper – his large right hand clamped across her mouth while the fingers of his left pressed upon her throat. With a quiet whisper, he spoke the only word that could halt her struggles. A single word of magic and power, that had linked these two together for months... the word that bound her, body, mind and soul to him... the word that was the key to the erotic drama to unfold throughout the rest of this night... the word.. her word... his word... their word... This night, the first night, was a beginning, a new beginning to a new world. From this day on she would never be alone, never again afraid. For now, they were bound together by the word. Each day ever after would be a new beginning for her. A new group of experiences she would come to love and crave. Nothing was as it had been. The most delicious part of all was... no one would ever know... the changes he had made in her that night. The secret was in the word... and the word was power and love intertwined into a delicious chain of response. The Word Ch. 01 I sat relaxing in the corner of the couch reading a book. I heard Suzette down the hallway walking toward the living room. She had been away for a while. I noticed a sly smile on her face and a randy sway to her hips as she entered the room. She sat down between my spread legs, drew her knees to her chest, placed her feet up on the couch and leaned back, curling into me. Instinctively, my hands went to the backs of her alabaster thighs, exposed by the short summer skirt she wore. Playfully I caressed their length. We were in our mid-twenties and had been seeing each other for about seven months. She was the prototypical spunky 'all-American' girl. I was 'the clean cut guy with an edge". She was working on her MBA and in a business training program with a bank. I was the entrepreneurial type building my own business. "Where have you been?" I asked. "Just down the hall using the bathroom," she replied, "miss me?" "What took so long?" "I just was taking my time," she replied teasing me and trying to hide something. As I caressed her, my finger grazed the silky crotch of her panty. I noticed it was damp. "Was someone being a bad girl?" I teasingly asked. "Are you insinuating something, Mister?" Suzette coyly replied looking over her shoulder at me. I kissed her beautiful soft red lips, "Were you playing?" I asked in a quiet voice as I continued teasing her, gently pressing my fingers against her covered furrow. "No, just tending to some 'personal business'...." she replied. "Hmm.. maybe you would like to share with me the nature of that 'personal business'?" I suggested. "Maybe... maybe not," she teased back. We both chuckled. "Do you have a phrase yet?" I prompted. "Kind of," she replied with a smirk. "Really? You know, I want it to be sublimely enticing- the kind of phrase I can say to you around a group of people and it has that private meaning between us. I want it to make the others want to ask what it means. If asked, I want to be able to brush them off, tell them it is an inside joke, just to tease them along. And, if they insist on knowing, I should be able to say something that leaves them wondering even more...." Suzette replied, "I did come up with a few, but only one really works for me. There is 'devil's pulpit', 'money penny', and 'peppered pussy cat'. Which do you like?" "Money penny?" I asked. "That is the name of the secretary in the Bond films- I always thought she and Bond had something going on between them. She was the demure, conservative type but by the way she looked at him, and he back at her, those looks were clandestine. She was more than just one of his women, that glance said that she was 'the woman'... the one who behind closed doors ceded herself to his complete control. He knew that she knew everything about him, that she had even reviewed his dossier. She knew he would always return to her, despite his frolics. His glances said that she was the one he ultimately wanted... I could just imagine her passionate quips and cries as he firmly handled her..." "I could call you 'money penny' as an nick name, or, point out a couple and tell you they are so 'money penny'... I like it." "So?... Want to try it out?" Suzette asked, a smirk across her face. "Lay across my lap, you dirty little wench," I jokingly said. We had never done this before but had talked about it at length. We preferred spontaneity and this was one of those moments. Raising her skirt above her hips, I drew her panties down between her luscious young thighs. I ran the palm of my hand across her smooth buttocks and savored her soft skin. She obediently waited as I took stock of and caressed her. She threw aside her shoulder length dirty blonde hair and looked over her shoulder at me. I asked, "Want to confess?" "I have nothing to confess...," she replied with mocking impunity. I playfully spanked her right cheek. "Think again," I suggested. "No, nothing," she said. I spanked her again, this time slightly harder to jog her memory, "Think." "Well, I 'kind of' played without you," she replied. "So you 'kind of' lied to me," I said laying another on her cheek. She jumped a bit, my smack being slightly harder than the last one. My other hand reached down and started teasing her ass and lips, strumming her folds. "Don't you know you may not touch yourself without my permission?" I smacked her again and she flinched. I inserted my thumb into her wet furrow and she jumped at the unexpected penetration. "Did you get yourself off?" I asked finding her very wet. "Yes, Sir," she replied. I laid another spank on her behind. Thumb inserted, my palm lovingly cupped her hood. I noticed she had trimmed herself. She must have done it when she was in the bathroom. It was just as I preferred, short cropped and bristly against my palm. I imagined her blonde triangle as I leaned over and inspected her lips, now bare, oiled and still red from the fresh razor burn. "What do you have to say for your transgressions?" I demanded. "Please forgive me, kind Sir," she answered. "Forgive you for what?" I asked. "...for touching myself without your permission, Sir," she added. "Why should I forgive?" I inquired as I spanked her buttock again. "Because I was too horny to control myself, Sir... I am your lowly little slut who knows better but cannot help herself when thinking of you... which seems to be all the time," she replied. As I administered more punishment, my fingers and palm cupped and massaged her hood as my thumb moved in and out of her sex. She began to gyrate her hips in submission to the pleasure, "You will hold your release until told otherwise," I commanded. "Yes, Sir," she said in acknowledgment. "So Slut, what will be your punishment for this transgression? Perhaps the riding crop?" At the suggestion, her folds opened wide and my middle finger slipped between her lips, coming to rest on her engorged bud. I spanked her again, to distract her. She jumped and continued to gasp in pleasure. I felt her sex flexing within and knew she was loosing control, immersing herself in the moment. "My dear, you like the idea of a riding crop smacking your pale bare ass... What did you think about when you touched yourself?" I asked. "You... your big cock... and how it impales me," she struggled to say between gasps. "Tell me how it impales you," I commanded. "Deep... (spank) and it spreads me wide (spank)... and I love the feeling of your swollen head inside me (spank).... how it widens me... the way the shaft pulsates as you cum for me (spank).. how you assertively thrust as you take me (spank) and fuck my sluty little pussy (spank)..." she confessed in gasps of excitement and pain. "Do you want it now?" I asked. "Oh yes, please, Sir, please (spank)... give it to me (spank)..." she begged. The palm of my hand was now sopping wet, anointed by her juices. Her skin was becoming a soft hue of pink, "please Sir, I am so close (spank)..." she begged. "You may not release just yet..." I told her. Her hips began bucking up and down as she squirmed to maintain her composure, riding my thumb as I slid my finger across her bud. I had taken her too far. I administered a few more and I pushed my thumb in further, teasing her on the edge. Then, I moved my thumb and the heel of my palm in a circular motion. She fought hard to maintain control and obey my command not to release. Her thighs quivered as she resisted.... "oh no..." she gasped, realizing she was past the point of return. Suddenly, the crest broke across her body and she seized, arching her back and lifting her head. I spanked her, repeatedly and harder than before. She screamed "ow!" in a high pitch and then "Ooooooh, oooooh, ooooh" over and over as I teased her through the release and the new found lascivious mixture of sweet rapture and pain shuddered her body. Shortly afterward, when Suzette came to her senses, I asked, "Was it good?" She looked over her shoulder at me, bit her lower lip in contemplation, raised her eyebrows and with a coy smile on her face said, "More,.... please?..." The Word Ch. 02 Chapter 02: Marketa's Lesson Sitting alone in the sidewalk cafe, he drank his coffee trying to shake the morning grog from his head. A warm spring breeze ruffled the edges of the newspaper and he felt a presence silently standing across the table from him. He peered around the paper to investigate. There stood a very attractive older woman with an elitist air surveying the outdoor cafe for a seat. All the tables were filled. He was convinced that behind her dark sunglasses, she was feigning her search, hoping for an invitation. She looked at him, smiled politely and continued her silent search. After a few seconds she asked in a French accent, "Is anyone using this chair?" Reluctantly, he gestured for her to join him and resumed his reading. "Excuse me," she interrupted, "I forgot my paper at home. May I?" "Please," he replied sliding the already read portion across the table. "Thank you, you are too kind," she replied. Moments later she started again, "Look at this... the new Spring fashion line is out... you would look good in this jacket... it is made for you..." In his morning haze he wondered who she was thinking she she could insert herself into his day. "Excuse me, do I know you?" he politely asked. Extending her hand she replied, "Marketa. And you are?" "Henry," he replied looking down through the mesh table top noticing her beautiful legs and fancy high heels. "Nice to meet you Henry," she answered, a smirk on her face as she noticed his roving eyes. They sat in silence for a while drinking their coffee until she started again, "Did you see in the paper that there is a new art exhibit at the museum? Henry, do you like art?" "Yes, very much, especially impressionism," he responded. A discussion ensued and they found some common ground, which suddenly made his day much better and she more interesting. "So Henry, look here," she persisted pointing at the picture of the coat, "it is you..." "I'm not much for fashion," Henry demurred. Marketa persisted, "Come on, just take a look at it..." He obliged her. "Yes, it is very nice..." "You really need to see it on you. I can tell. You will buy it once you try it on, you will see... I have an eye for these things," she persisted in her sexy accent. Based on her fashionable attire, he thought she was probably right about the coat. "Do you have plans today? Lets go have a look, try it on... trust me, you'll be better for it, and, if you like it, you buy it. And if not, I buy you lunch. Deal?" she asked. He momentarily wondered why a complete stranger was asking him to spend time together to look at some coat but she had already started growing on him and having no schedule for the day, he relented to her persistence. They spent the rest of the day walking and talking. They made it to the museum, and yes, he did buy the jacket. In appreciation for his trust, she still bought lunch. Despite spending what turned into a great day getting to know a complete stranger, around 5:00 pm, she suggested parting ways, "I have to go- I have an engagement tonight. I'm sorry. This was all to good to end, and so soon... Days like these are to be remembered fondly," she stated as she handed him a piece of paper, "My number... call me if you want to meet again," she said walking backwards, a smile on her face as she looked at him just before turning away. He stood motionless marveling at her as she turned the corner and disappeared. That day started it all. He was enthralled by her vivacious, outgoing and spontaneous personality. The foreigner in her made her mysterious and alluring. Aside from her attractive looks and sophisticated dress, she was an older woman, 45 to Henry's 37, and he found that intrinsically tantalizing. She was enamored with his low key personality, his intelligence, exuberance for her, the attention he paid her when they were together, his lack of expectations and the carefree spontaneous fun they had. And then there were his good looks- tall and striking, a well kept body, straight dark hair, chiseled face, deep set blue eyes. He was well educated, a successful professional and a great conversationalist- "well rounded and worldly" she described him. Yes, he was the complete package by all standards and she found him outright refreshing compared to men her age. Slowly friendship turned into a very private affair- she wanted to keep it discreet. They each saw others and did not hide the fact from one another, which helped lower expectations. She never introduced him to her friends, never brought him to social gatherings. Sometimes he felt like her "boy toy" but did not mind- he was having too much fun. This went on for about a year, clandestine meetings, romantic weekends and then one day he received a letter from Marketa and opened it with curiosity. It read: "Dear Henry, I write you with great trepidation that what I am about to reveal will shock you, perhaps even scare you off. We have known each other for a year, and it has been a wonderful one at that, although I must admit I should be more forthright with my friends regarding your presence in my life. For that I apologize and promise the coming year will be different. But that is not why I write. Henry dearest, I feel very comfortable with you, more so than ever before with any other man. I feel that I can tell you my deepest darkest secret without feeling vulnerable. I know even if you do not approve of it, you will not spurn or chastise me, or be judgmental, because that is not your nature. Henry, I want you to allow me to give my undying obedience and trust to you in an act of complete submission. Do you understand what I mean? Please tell me you do. It is a fantasy I have harbored for many years but never found the right person to share it with, the one person who might indulge my curiosity. I hope you are the one who will do it. Please tell me you will share it with me. The when and where are inconsequential. I'll fly us wherever you want on the face of the earth to try this with me, just name the place and time. Love, Marketa" Henry was stunned having never expected anything of this sort from his conventional lover. A wicked smile crossed his face as he pondered the possibilities. He had dabbled in it before- it had started as light hearted experimentation with a girl who he was living with in his youth but it never really got past that point, the relationship having ended shortly thereafter. He had found it hard to find women of his liking who were willing to explore beyond sexual convention, and, he yearned to try it some more. Henry knew Marketa's weakness and strengths, which acts she liked and disliked, which she performed well and which she did not. He was convinced he could master her for her own pleasure. He would give her a salacious experience, one which would leave her wanton with desire. He wrote in reply: "My Dearest Marketa, Do not fear displacing me with your dark desire. I am honored that you chose to share it with me. I only have three conditions- first, that you strictly follow my directions, second that you have a safe word and third that I have your complete and unwavering trust. Meet me in Paris on the eve of 10 November at my favorite hotel in the 8th arrondissement. I will leave a key for you at the front desk. Be there at 4:30 PM prompt. Henry". He intentionally kept the message simple, preferring to keep details to himself. He refused to discuss the impending event. He wanted her to ponder what was going to occur- to build her excitement and test her will with uncertainty. He flew from the States to Paris a few days in advance. On the afternoon of the 10th he arranged the suite- a candle was set on a small table and a note next to it told her to relax and drink the chilled champagne in the bucket and read her favorite book of short erotic stories, which he placed on the table with a red rose laid across the cover. Marketa arrived on time. She retrieved the key from the front desk and to her delight discovered Henry had secured the hotel's luxury suite. She proceeded up to the room, excitement for the impending unknown coursing through her body. She had been thinking about this very weekend for so long. Her anticipation had grown by the day to the point of obsession. Marketa's heart raced as she pushed the key into the hole and unlocked the door. She entered she expected to find Henry waiting for her. Stepping into the suite she took a deep breath to quell her anxiety. To her dismay, the room was poorly lit and Henry was not present. She found the note, settled in and waited for his arrival. Henry made Marketa wait until 6:00 pm. He quietly opened the door. Marketa heard him slip in and rose to greet him. She always presented herself well for him. This time she grabbed his attention more than usual. Normally when they met they greeted with a warm kiss and loving embrace. Marketa immediately noticed Henry's body language and demeanor were different. "Not a word unless you are spoken to, understand?" he started. She was taken aback by his cold and abrupt manner. "Yes," she replied. "The safe word?" he asked. "I have none- I do not want one. I know what you told me but I trust you completely... I know you will do me no harm." "If that is your choice, that is your risk," he said noting her first transgression while marveling at her attire; a federal blue blazer- squared at the shoulders, tapered at the waist, plunging neckline-and a knee length skirt with matching blue heels, pearl earring's and necklace. It was very business like and she looked impeccable. He studied her- beautiful fine stranded straight black short hair parted in the middle, the length cut at her jawline with a forward curl at the bottom of each side, her high cheek bones, small upturned nose, green cat shaped eyes, thin eyebrows and slightly full ruby red painted lips. She was a woman of beauty, self esteem, strong will and independence. He was fascinated that she would give herself over. "I trust you found my note?" "Yes. The book and champagne too. You know I love reading that one, and, the champagne was divine. It is good to know you remember my weaknesses..." Henry removed her jacket. Beneath she wore only a white bra. Then he removed her skirt. She attentively stood wearing white cotton panties, shoes and the bra. He circled and admired her mature body- flat stomach, thin mid-section, hips and ass that flared out just a bit more than the proportion would dictate, but which gave her a perfectly curved build, and muscular calves to support her delicious five foot five body. "Look straight ahead and remove the bra," he coldly directed. She turned her gaze and reached behind and unclasped it, methodically drew the straps over her arms and let the garment fall to the ground. Her small firm breasts revealed, he thought of all the times he enjoyed sucking her sensitive conical pert nipples. The breasts were disproportionately small for her body but he found them quite erotic. "What is it that you want of me?" he asked. "In public I want to be your wealthy sophisticated paramour but in private I want to be your wealthy sophisticated French Slut," she deliberately stated and in a hushed voice as he reached down and with a gentle touch slowly traced the edges of her furrow through the panty. She hesitated a moment, swallowed hard and continued, "...I want you to train me, make me your pet... so I can know your ultimate pleasures, to serve you," she nervously confessed, "will you do it?" "Feel good?" he asked deferring her question. "Yes," she replied. "In French," he commanded giving her a playful slap on the ass. "Oui, Messiour," she obliged. "That is better... sexier," he said continuing to press his fingers against her, "I have a few rules... you must unconditionally obey me, and, you may not release without my permission. Understand?" "Oui," she replied as her moisture built. He drew the panties down to between her thighs. Standing at her side, he reached behind and slowly penetrated her sex with his fingers. She gasped at the intrusion. Henry brought the palm of his other hand to her front and pressed it against her hairy sex. Slowly he worked her from within, stroking her tightness. He removed his fingers brought one to her mouth, pressing her lips to open. She resisted and he spanked her. Reluctantly, she tasted herself, slowly suckling the finger. He produced a black silk scarf and bound her wrists behind her back. Standing before her, he playfully pinched each nipple just enough to make her wince. "On your knees," he instructed. She knelt and watched as he removed his pants and held forward his aroused head, "Open your beautiful lips," he instructed. Marketa reluctantly pursed her mouth into the perfect "O". He held himself out and inched forward. Once within her, he stood with his hands behind his back, the only parts of their bodies touching being her mouth and the head of his sex. She struggled to perform the act- she always did and knew it. Having been denied use of her hands, she was disadvantaged. Nevertheless, she had bargained for his will over her and this was her obligation. Marketa performed with slow caring passion knowing he preferred a long slow build up concluded by a deep moving climax. When she offered her mouth to men, they all started slow, leading her to believe the end would be controlled. But, they all finished in a brutish manner. She did not know why- was it that she performed the act so well that they lost all control? Was her face so attractive that it turned them on so much? Or, perhaps her lips were perfectly shaped for the act that they viewed her as an irresistible object? Usually, towards the end they all moved in and out with control but just before they came, their hands held her head fast and they forced themselves in to release down her throat, holding her lips to the base of their shaft until the very last drop spilled. When they removed themselves, she always found herself struggling between gagging and suffocation, the seed spilling from her mouth. For that reason, she typically withheld her mouth from most. Sometimes she wondered if it was her abstention that so excited them that on the rare occasion that it was offered, they were barbaric. Henry was different. He was tender with her each time. He let her set the pace. He let her wrap her fingers around his shaft and move her mouth, regulating the depths of his penetrations while her other hand cupped and caressed his balls and the long painted fingernails pressured his underside. He never put his hands on her head to force her down. No, she was permitted to maintain control and she enjoyed pleasuring him in this manner. Marketa knelt before him face tilted up. Henry's phallus hung down and slowly slid in and out, her lips stretching his head and skin, pulling them taught as they crossed the threshold, sinking into her wet warm inviting mouth. She felt him stiffening and noticed his subtle moans. A dewy drop of salty pre-cum spilled. Now she knew he was at the edge. She wanted her bonds loosened so she could hold him as he came in her. "Yes, that is it," he cooed as he pleasured himself on her, "...look me in the eyes," he instructed, "Your lips always feel so good, the shape and color, so erotic... but it is your beautiful face that excites me more, that eager to please look in your eyes..." His hands took her head and held it steady. Panic raced through her and her body stiffened in anticipation of savagery. She now feared he was about to have her mouth just like the others. She hoped he would pull out and have her face instead. But then he sealed her fate, "Do not spill me," he quietly directed, "or I will have you trained until you can repeatedly perform the act to perfection." Henry looked at Marketa and thought to himself, "she kneels before me in submission for my pleasure, giving herself to me. Her sacrifice is beautiful..." His hands on the side of her head, he slowly slid in and out of her mouth appreciating the sensation she gave in servitude. She noticed how his hips swayed slightly faster. He looked into her eyes, loving eyes pooled with trust and devotion and pushed his head in and held her savoring the moment. Her face was beautiful but it was the trust and devotion he saw in her eyes which made him slowly release his thick steady creamy streams of musky passion into her waiting mouth. He held still and controlled the cadence of the release, gently spilling himself on her tongue. She drank of him, swallowing as he gave, grateful her did not thrust hard and deep. When finish, he pulled out. She waited in silence, looking down in submission. He inspected her face and noticed she had spilled. Instantly she knew she had disappointed him. "Stand up," he commanded and he brought Marketa to a desk and leaned her forward, face and shoulders bracing her body, her ass out and upright and her hairy sex offered. He spanked her ass with his bare hand and it rippled with the contact, "What do you have to say for yourself?" "Je suis monsieur désolé (I am sorry Sir)," she replied. "Will it ever happen again?" he asked administering another one. "No, Monsieur," she whimpered in reply. Into her wet sex he inserted two fingers and toyed her, building her excitement as he continued administering punishment. "Oui, svp, me donner le dégagement (Yes, please, give me release)," she begged. "No talking unless you are addressed (spank)... insolent little bitch (spank)... I'll train your rich ass yet (spank) and make you mine before we are through this weekend (spank), understand?" "Oui, oui," she responded, a tear streaming down her check from the last contact, which was painfully harsh, his palm stinging her soft skin as they met. He stood her up and released her wrists, "We have plans tonight. That outfit over there, wear it," he said as he raised her up, a nice shade of pink welling in her tender skin. He watched her adorn in the clothes he had carefully selected- a pair of black see through patterned crotchless silk panties, patent leather spiked high heels and a short black cocktail dress- the hem just a bit too short for her thighs- with a plunging neckline, a diamond bracelet, necklace and earrings completed the outfit. "Isn't it a bit short?" she asked noticing that the bottom of the dress barely covered her at the mid-thigh. "No, it is perfect for my purposes," Henry replied. Marketa chose not to question his "purposes". They left the hotel and headed down the street on foot walking arm in arm. "Where are we going?" she asked. "To the opera. I know how much you enjoy it... we have balcony seats in a private box. Only the best for my Pet... How do you feel?" "So aroused I could jump you right here," she cooed. "The first time a master takes his pet is very special... it means she has proven herself worthy... some wait a long time before they are taken... they 'suffer' being constantly teased, craving their master's approval.... some are never taken and are set free... we have but a weekend and the time to prove yourself is short." "I sense you have done this before... Is there something more I should know about you?" she asked. Henry did not answer and they continued walking in silence. Marketa had come to Paris to be taken with few conditions. Yes, she knew he was in control but now the bar was set higher and she wondered if she could meet his expectations. As they walked she marveled at the beauty of Paris and thought how it contrasted with the dirty little secret they were playing out behind closed doors. Thankfully, she thought, that was where it was being kept... They sat through the first act. At intermission he suggested they have a drink. Standing at the corner of the lobby bar Henry noticed a couple at the other end. The man was eying Marketa. She noticed him and turned her back. He raised a glass to Henry in salutation. Henry leaned over and whispered, "I must say hello to old friends. I did not expect to see them. He is the one who keeps looking at you. Come with me. Not a word unless I tell you so...." The Word Ch. 02 They walked to the other end of the bar and Henry approached the couple with arms spread wide, "Suzette, Jacques, so good to see you. It has been so long. Marketa, these are old friends of mine." "A pleasure," Jacques said eying Marketa as she extended her hand, which he kissed. Henry and Suzette exchanged traditional kisses. Jacques joked, "The cat has her tongue?" "No, I do," Henry replied. "I understand... I have one of those at home too..." The two men laughed at Jacques' quip. They exchanged pleasantries and small talk and then the lights flickered signaling the start of the next act. "Will you join us in our private box? We have it to ourselves and there are extra seats. We have not had much time together," Henry offered. Suzette looked to Jacques for approval. He nodded assent. Marketa sat between Jacques and Henry. Suzette was located on the other side of Jacques. Marketa intently watched the opera. Half way through the act Henry placed a hand on her thigh and whispered in her ear, "Pleasure him, with your mouth." Her eyes widened and she looked at him, an expression of shock on her face, "Here? Now? And Suzette?" "Yes, here and now... and maybe she will understand, maybe she will not and we will have a scene," he bluntly stated. "But, the other people, they will see me, what if someone recognizes me? I know many in this town, people who are probably here tonight... What if he protests? He is a stranger to me.... what if he knows someone I know in Paris... I cannot risk this..." she protested. "It is to dark for the others to see you, especially when you are on your knees....," Henry coldly implored. "But, but," she replied. "No 'buts', just get on with it," he mandated, "remember what I told you when we walked here. Now do it." Marketa knelt before Jacques, not sure how he would react. She looked up at Suzette for approval as she opened his zipper and removed his handsome sex. Suzette intentionally ignored Marketa but was fully aware of what she was doing. As Marketa performed the act, Jacques paid no attention to her. She gently caressed and teased Jacques, kissing and licking his head, teasing him stiff. Then she went completely down on him, taking the entire phallus in her mouth. He gave no sign of acknowledgment. She pleasured him for a good ten minutes, slowly building him toward climax. As he neared release, he demonstrated virtually no evidence of the impending climax other than to place his hand on the back of her head. In the din of the light one could see his jaw clench. Marketa held him at the base of the shaft, drawing the skin down and making him taught. He spread his pre-cum across her tongue. Taking the cue, she suckled his head with a vengeance coaxing him to release. He pushed her head down, forcing her to the base of his shaft and unburdened himself in her mouth. When he was finished, she licked him clean, replaced his sex and sat down between the two men. Jacques took the silk handkerchief from the from pocket of his tuxedo and handed it to her. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth and chin. "She is very good," Jacques commented to Henry, "Thank you." "I believe she spilled you. I am embarrassed by her imperfection. Please accept my apology. We had this issue earlier tonight. She was punished. She needs reinforcement. Would you please, in the alcove," Henry stated pointing beyond the curtain separating the private box from an alcove dedicated for passage from the main hallway. Marketa's eyes widened at Henry's suggestion. She looked at him with trepidation. Having her perform for another man was more than she had ever expected. Now she was being handed over to a virtual stranger for public punishment. Fear struck again as she thought of the people she might know in Paris, people who might stumble across them, she feared the rumors which would swirl through her elite social circle, she would be humiliated, personally devastated. Henry looked at her as Jacques rose and took her by the arm. His eyes told her she needed to do this. The two disappeared behind the curtain leaving Suzette and Henry alone. As long as Marketa kept quiet, nobody would hear them above the music. Marketa did not realize the low risk of being caught. Henry pulled back the curtain ever so slightly so he and Suzette could watch. Marketa leaned over, hands against the wall, dress raised above the hips, panties drawn down between her thighs. Jacques stood behind her slowly administering a deliberate punishment. She took it without a whimper, her teeth biting her lower lip, her skin rippling with each firm slap of her ass. As Jacques administered, Suzette moved over and sat in Henry's lap. Henry's hand instinctively went up the inside of her skirt to between her thighs. He teased her through her panties, "I miss you... it has been too long this time... I must still be discrete. He is still paranoid that one day you will take me away from him.... he will never admit it but I know it is so. You or I could reassure him but he would never believe either of us.... It is my own fault, for having built you up so much in his mind. He harbors no malice toward you but he will never rest easy until you no longer walk the earth," she said toying the hair on the back of his head, twirling it through her fingers as he teased her sex. "But his unfounded concerns are good for you. They keep him on his toes, yes?" Henry asked. "Especially after we see each other. Tonight he will worship me like a queen.... I will be in charge," she said a slight gasp in her voice as he deftly moved aside her panty and teased her lips. "Who is she? Her looks are exquisite... Have you fully trained her yet?" Suzette asked. "We have been seeing each other for about a year. It is a casual but private affair- at her request- to protect her from potentially disapproving friends and social contacts. She is part of the "upper crust"... Heaven forbid she be associated with a younger man from outside her exclusive circle. She is smitten with me, as I for her, but she is conflicted. This weekend is experimental, at her request." "Quite a far way to travel just to train a pet," she replied, "this one must be special." "She is... You like her? We are staying at the usual hotel. Can you come over tomorrow morning?" Henry asked. "No, sadly I cannot steal away for even a few hours," Suzette replied, "I would love to have her myself... Does she know who I am?" Suzette asked. "I have never told her about you. She does not know who was my first pet, nor does she know of our occasional affairs... we are not exclusive so I believe it is not of any consequence to not tell her. I know she sees others too..." Henry was cut short when Jacques finished administering the punishment and he and Marketa returned to their seats. Suzette promptly moved over to Jacques' seat. Marketa's face was visibly flushed as she sat down between Henry and Suzette. Ten minutes passed. As they continued watching the opera, Suzette's hand unexpectedly came to rest on Marketa's knee. Marketa flinched. Slowly it crept up her leg and slid inside the skirt. Her fingers proceeded to fondle Marketa's inner thighs. Marketa tried to act as if nothing was happening. Inside she was excited by the advance thinking Suzette would give her much needed relief. Her heart quickened its pace and she parted her legs giving Suzette access to her burning sex. She felt Suzette's fingers gracing her lips with the soft stokes of a delicate woman. She squirmed and was afraid she would cry out as she came, attracting the attention of others around them. She tried to breath through the excitement at a measured pace. It was to no avail. She looked over at Henry for approval. He paid them no attention and she wondered if he knew what was happening. Suzette pinched Marketa's erect nipple through the dress. Marketa's hands gripped at the sides of the chair and her knuckles turned white as she held on trying to balance the pinching pain and forestall a cascading release. Noticing Marketa's struggles, Suzette became viciously unrelenting, fondling the older woman's sex. Suzette noticed Marketa's quivering thighs and arching back, how her ass dug back into the seat, how her chest thrust forward and bit her lower lip in anticipation of the climax. Then, Suzette suddenly stopped and pulled away. She licked her fingers and looked over at Marketa, "You have a fine pussy," she whispered in Marketa's ear, "Tonight I am just a tease. Perhaps we will have the chance to pleasure each other, in private... alone... just the two of us.... you need to call me... here is my number," she said slipping Marketa a business card. Marketa did not know how to respond and sat silently looking forward, contemplating Suzette's words and thinking of what it would be like to have Suzette.... Henry leaned over to Marketa, "Kneel and service her needs." Marketa complied. Suzette anxiously looked forward to Marketa exploring her in the dark. She slid her ass forward to the edge of the chair and slouched down, lifted her ass and Marketa drew down the younger woman's undergarment. Once removed, Suzette lifted her skirt. Marketa's head ducked in and she kissed the creamy thighs and inhaled the scent of succulent perfumed flesh. As she worked upwards, Suzette slowly spread, giving Marketa greater access. Her sex fully available, Suzette lowered her skirt over Marketa's head for privacy so she should net feel compelled to rush the act. Blinded in the darkness, Marketa explored the curves of Suzette's body her delicate erogenous zones. She glided her tongue through the hairy furrow, into the swollen lips and gently lapped at the anxious bud. Then she attended to the tender inner pink flesh, teasing the delicate folds with her fingers at a constant pace, persistently stabbing at the opening. "Henry, this one already knows how to attend to a woman's needs," Suzette commented as she placed a hand on the back of Marketa's head and struggled to maintain her composure. Marketa lapped at the hardened bud as Suzette's thighs began to quiver. A finger stroked from within. Suzette craved anal penetration. She lifted her hips hoping Marketa would understand. Marketa took the movement as a sign of excitement, frustrating Suzette. Suzette pushed Marketa's head down into her as the pleasure mounted and Marketa's fingers quickened their pace. Marketa could hear the sound of her fingers strumming the sopping sex. She suckled the bud hard. Suzette raised her hips pushing her sex into Marketa's mouth. She issued a muffled gasp. Marketa felt Suzette's sex pulsate and plunged her fingers deep and hard. Suzette clenched her ass and froze as the climax washed over her body and she fought to maintain a semblance of public composure. Marketa returned to her seat. Henry handed her a hanker chief to clean the glistening juices from her face. He motioned for Marketa to go back to the alcove. He drew her to the wall and lifted her hands above her head and braced them against the wall. "Here? Now?" she asked in poorly hidden panic. "Yes, here and now," he said lifting her dress and maneuvering himself between her crotchless panties. He held her hands high with one hand and himself against her with the other fondling her wet clit with his fingers. Suddenly he gave her a forceful penetrating thrust. She gasped but her cry was muffled by the opera wailing in the background. Henry leaned forward, pressing her body against the wall, "How badly do you want relief my Pet?" His fingers continued to tease her bud as he held her fast and otherwise remained motionless. He built her up to the point he felt her hips writhing and then he stopped. "You have not earned it yet... lets get out of here," he said. Marketa asked in a muted and curious panic, "What if I meet them again? What if they unknowingly tell a mutual friend?" "I came here with the intent of finding a complete stranger for you. Meeting Jacques and Suzette was pure coincidence... as much chance as meeting an acquaintance of yours.... These things are private matters. There is an unwritten code. They are never discussed," he assured her as they left the theater and headed back to the hotel arm in arm. Back in the room, Henry stood at the foot board of the bed, "Come to me," he said. Marketa approached with the smile of a hungry tigress on her face. "Oui?" she coyly asked as he looked into her eyes. "Closer," he implored in a quiet and deep voice as he placed his hands on her hips, drew her near and tenderly kissed her as their bodies grazed. "I've been wanting that since I came here," she said. "So have I... You performed well in the theater.... Tell me, do you like this little game we play?" "So far," she replied, their bodies swaying back and forth. "Really?" "Really," she affirmed. He kissed her again, "Well my little sex kitten, which part have you liked the best?" "You," she said as she gave him a kiss, "and your wicked game... and each naughty little spanking, which brings me one moment closer to having you (another kiss)... makes my skin tingle and burn (another kiss)... and it excites me in ALL the right places... because of it, I am more aware of you and the pleasure you give me... now can I have it?" she seductively asked grabbing at him through the pants. "Frisky? You know you may not touch without permission." "Yes, I know but..." she said in a teasing manner with a poutty tart expression on her face. Henry raised her dress and spanked her once, grabbed her ass and squeezed her cheeks as he firmly pulled her against his now bulging member. "His spanking almost got me off right there in the theater," she started, "I was so turned on, so close, but he ended it... and she, she is a wicked little tease.... do you think you can do anything to help me out, kind Sir, release my tension?" "You are deserving for all you did in the theater- engaging in a public performance with strangers, I was amazed that you did it. I know how much courage it took, the risks you took, all that is not lost on me," he said just before his tongue gently explored her lips and he unclasped her dress, causing it to fall to the floor. She in turn undressed him and they stood naked, their bodies barely pressed together again. He playfully slapped her ass making it ripple. She playfully ground her curls against his. He gave her another, and harder, slap. "Ooo, oui Bebe, oui" she cooed in his ear, "Punish your rich bitch slut, I embarrassed you before your friends, disappointed you, I have been bad...." Henry produced two silks and tied each wrist to the foot board, "bend over, arch your back down, spread your feet... stick out that lovely ass... farther," he said spanking her into compliance. "Me donner une fessée encore (spank me again), lui faire la piqûre (make it sting)...." Obligingly, he laid another on her tender pink flesh. Her ass rippled on impact and she drew in her breath to mitigate the pain. "You like this?" "Oui Messiour." He rubbed her swollen lips with his fingers, teasing their edges and the inviting opening. He slipped in a thumb and teased her entrance while his pointer and index fingers reached beneath and tenderly rubbed her slick swollen clit. "Oui," she whimpered as she pushed back trying to enhance the pleasure. "You need to control yourself. I am in charge here... that was very bad (slap)("Ooooh," she cried out) my anxious pet (slap)... What do you have to say for yourself?" "Veuillez me pardonner (Please forgive me)." He continued his ministration of her lips, "... s'il vous/te plaît Henri, me prendre (please Henry, take me)." "My pet begs?" "Oui Messiour," she quipped, "I want you... please let me release, become my master." He produced a ball gag. Her eyes widened, just as in the theater, but she accepted it without protest, knowing her role was to do as he wished rather than disappoint. Her bonds untied, he lay down on the bed and directed her to climb atop of him. His cock brought to her, she pushed down impaling herself, her flower widening with the penetration, her soft lips anointing his head with a slow hot wet kiss as she swallowed him deep. She felt her walls embrace his length and width and was secure knowing he was deep within her. He sat up, reached behind her and bound her wrists together, "there is no need to rush this...." he said as he brought her ankles back and over his thighs, bound them together and then joined the two bonds virtually immobilizing her. "Slow and passionate is how I like it... If I let you release, will you devote yourself to me?" She nodded her head in affirmation, "and serve me as I require, without question or protest?" She affirmed again. Henry knew Marketa ached for release. He lay back and observed her body, bound and at his disposal- her alabaster breasts, beautiful pert deep colored nipples, her available sex. He reached up and pinched a long erect nub. A muffled wince issued from behind the gag. He observed her swollen bud and impaled flower. The sweet aroma of her frustrated sex perfumed the air. He reached forward and touched the bud, playfully grazing it with a finger in a nonchalant manner. She moaned as he fondled her. He stroked her hard clit a bit faster. More muffled moans emanated from behind the gag. He lay back and watched her writhe as her teased her. She felt her walls flexing and knew she was about to lose all control despite his edict. She prayed for his permission but could not ask. "Have me Pet," he compassionately told her as he placed his hands on her hips to steady her. He witnessed how she struggled to move and please him. He placed his hands on her hips and moved her back and forth, her slick walls teasing his excited hard sex. His head tingled as he watched her struggle to please and the sight overtook him. He arched his back to fight off the impending climax as he ground her down against him. His hips writhed with hers. He reached up and pinched each nipple. She thrust her chest up and forward in pain. His body seized and his hips vaulted upwards, his sex stabbed deep into hers as he violently released. She felt his vigorous seed spill and lost all control. Wave after wave after wave of intense orgasm washed over her as she shuddered like never before, the climax releasing the frustrations which tore at her body and soul. As they calmed, she sitting upright, he playfully stroked her soaking swollen clit, admiring her beauty and servitude. He released the gag. She smiled as she gasped, "Thank you my Master..... thank you....," she said, "How may I serve you now?" He sat up and kissed her quivering red lips, "No Pet, now it is my turn, my turn to worship you..." The Word Ch. 03 Chapter 3: A Favor for My Pet "Baby," Marketa said, "Remember that little thing we did in Paris? My friend is intrigued, she wants to try it...." The words hung in the air. "And?" I replied. "Will you do her the favor?" "Does she know who I am, that it was me?" I asked. "No. All I told her was that it was an 'old friend' who indulged my curiosity. I think what got her attention was how liberating I told her it felt. I may have mentioned you to her once but I do not think I ever told you about her," she explained. "Then please do," I said. Marketa went on to tell me all about Carol. "Ok," I agreed, "but you realize anything goes?" "Of course," Marketa replied with a smirk, "besides, its not like we are exclusive...." I continued, "... and only under certain conditions- I dictate the terms, the when, where and how. She is to never know who I am and will never ask. Tell her I'll send a note through you two days in advance with the details." "Thanks Baby, she really wants to try this," Marketa said a glean of appreciation in her eye, "and I appreciate you doing this too..." "How much?" I had to ask. Without a word, my pet sank to her knees before me..... I waited a few weeks before selecting the date. Then I sent the note. I was sure Carol had been nervously waiting for my signal- Marketa had been religiously prodding me, hinting around, asking if I knew when. It was as if Carol was anxious and Marketa was her agent provocateur. I was regretting my decision. Silent patience is what I wanted. It was not what I was experiencing. At the appointed time I arrived at the urban colonial style brick house I had rented for the weekend. Marketa let me in the front door and without a word pointed to the back door. I passed down the long hall way and existed into a brick walled courtyard. It was early autumn and the sun was setting, casting shadows while it's rays highlighted the last remnants of eye popping flowers surrounding the base of a three tiered water fountain in the center of the court. Small pebbles covering the yard crunched beneath my feet and announced my solitary presence. I came to the side door of the detached garage and put the key into the old lock. I turned the knob and as I pushed it open, the hinges creaked, announcing my entrance. I stood at the base of a wooden staircase leading to an artist's loft. I closed and locked the door, slowly ascended the steps, each one issuing a dull thud as my feet came down. Arriving at the top landing, I stood and looked around. In the center of the room Carol sat in a chair as instructed- blindfolded, hands in her lap, knees and ankles together as she compliantly waited for me. She had perfectly followed my directions- silk blouse, skirt, very light stockings and red high heels. I could immediately tell she was from Marketa's social circle- high end fashion which revealed membership in a conservative, upper crust echelon of society. Why she was here was beyond me but I was going to find out. The chair was positioned on a rug in the middle of the rectangular room. The ceiling was slanted on both sides giving the room a sense of cozy seclusion. The loft was sparsely decorated. At one end was a desk against the wall under a window overlooking some woods and a distant pond. On the other end was a couch below another window, a coffee table, a couple of chairs, a book shelf and a glass case containing vintage liquors. I had prepared the room earlier in the day, intentionally leaving a bottle of scented oil and a crop on the chair. Now they were placed on the floor next to Carol. I walked around her without stating a word, each step on the oak floor being the only sound in the dimly sunlit room. She felt my gaze. I sensed her nervous tension. I stood next to her looking down in contemplation, testing her patience. She fidgeted her fingers waiting for me to speak. "Are you nervous?" I began. "Yes," she softly admitted. "What is your name?" I asked. "Carol," she replied. "You have a last name?" "Carol Broussard," she nervously answered. I did not intend to assuage her concerns, "I am the one you asked Marketa to send. You come here of your own choosing, yes?" I asked. "Yes," she replied. "The blindfold shall remain on at all times. You are to never know what I look like, who I am, even after we are done today. What you want me to do is totally consensual. That means if you want me to stop at any time, you need to tell me the safe word. Marketa did tell you to pick one?" "Paris," Carol stated. "Paris' it is. If you say it, I will immediately halt what I am doing. If you protest by stating 'no' or 'stop' I will not oblige you and will consider it a form of false protest designed to heighten the experience. If I ask you for consent to do something, you may conditionally or unconditionally give or deny it. Tonight you are completely submissive to me. That means I have your absolute trust. Do not be embarrassed to use the safe word, I assure you, I will not be disappointed.... Oh yes, one last item. You must be completely open and honest with me. Everything that happens or is said tonight, I will keep completely confidential. I anticipate Marketa will ask me about what transpired. I will tell her nothing. If you choose, you may disclose to her. Stand up," I commanded. Carol complied and waited for further direction. Without warning, I began unbuttoning her blouse. I saw goosebumps rise on her skin as the reality of the moment struck. Beneath she wore no bra. I removed the shirt revealing her bosoms and rosettes. I stepped behind her and unfastened her skirt, letting it drop to the floor around her ankles. I helped her step out of it and lightly tossed it across the room out of reach. Adorned as instructed she stood attentive and silent. I let her stand for a while in silence, wondering what I was going to do next. I walked around her in observation- she stood about five foot six in heels, her hair was light sandy brown, tightly curled and reaching to her shoulders. Her midsection was narrow and her hips flared out a bit more than proportion would have dictated. Her ass was slightly bubbled and properly accentuated by the tight white garters running across her rounds. Her thighs were slightly more than average size and her calves were muscular and well shaped. I stepped forward and without warning pulled her panties down between her thighs to reveal her privates. She swallowed hard realizing her exposure. Below she was covered with matching sandy brown hair, giving her a soft, delicate appearance. "Bend over, feet and knees together," I instructed, placing the chair before her and guiding her hands to the seat for support. I picked up the crop and struck the seat of the chair by her hands, making a sudden loud sound which caused her to jump. I figured that like Marketa, she was in her late forties. "You are more beautiful than described. I need to know why a well to do attractive woman like you is here. Is it role play? To be a dirty little whore? A tart in need of punishment? The vindictive mistress who told his wife? Wayward whore house wife?" I asked. "No," she stated, "I just want to know what it is like to be submissive and controlled, to know absolute trust," she explained. "In the short time we have tonight, I cannot give you the full experience. Marketa only had a small taste of it in a two day period. Did you see Marketa when she was last in Paris?" I queried. "Yes, and that is when she told me of her experience, with you... that was when I knew I wanted to try it. Up until then I was hesitant. Marketa told me how erotic it was- the total submission of her body and soul to another. I was jealous, for my own reasons, but curious too." "Tell me, your husband will not oblige you?" I asked. She stammered upset with at the revelation of my knowledge, "...Marketa was not supposed to tell you.... How do you know?" "When I came in you were fidgeting your fingers. I noticed the tan line, where the ring was before you removed it. Some things you cannot hide... now answer the question." "He does not, would not if I asked. He is too conservative, it.. it would shock him..." Carol said. "What did you mean to say when you said 'he does not'?" I asked. She paused and then reluctantly confessed, "... he does not have an interest in me... he has others.... and this is something he would never do." I stood behind Carol and observed her ass. Pulling the garters to the side, I removed the last vestige of clothing from her rounds. I took the tongue of the crop and playfully tapped her ass. "Does it hurt?" I asked. "A little," she replied. I took my hand and ran it across her ass, savoring her warm smooth well cared for skin, inspecting the soft texture with my fingers. Then I tapped her with the crop a bit harder than before, stinging her tenderness. This time she winced. I wanted to make her aware of who was in control and leave her on edge waiting and wondering when and if the next one would be laid. It was not my intention to welt her or draw blood- that was something well beyond me, I had my limits. I took a seat across the room, poured myself a drink and watched her submissively bent in silence waiting for me to act. I pondered her physique wanting to know more about her motivations. "If he does not touch you anymore, how do you gain satisfaction?" Silent hesitation on her part. "Answer me," I said. "... I have someone, a friend... it is very discrete," she replied. "A man?" I asked. "...and it is not often," she added deferring the answer, "and it is just when we arrange to meet abroad, when we each travel alone." "How long has this been going on?" "About a year." "Where?" I asked. "London, Rome, Paris, Venice, places like that, far from home, where others do not know us...." I thought about her response, walked across the room and stood beside her, "Marketa did this because she wanted to know what it was like to give herself for my complete pleasure, for me to use her as I wished. She wanted to know how submission, control and trust felt- the pleasure of being used by another. Her sacrifice did not go without reward. You do not know me that you would want to please me..." She stood in silence without responding. In that moment I wondered what it was like for people who engaging in this behavior in the 1920's, 30's, 40's and 50's, a time when it was strictly taboo, how those on the fringe of society secretly practiced the acts behind closed doors. Compared to today, I wondered how they found each other, confessed their mutual interests and kept their secrets. "When you are lonely, do you touch yourself?" I asked. "Sometimes," she answered. "Where do you like to touch?" I asked. She paused, perhaps embarrassed, "... my bud," she confessed in a quiet voice. "... and want to touch it right now?" "Yes," she said. I knelt down, leaned to her ear and whispered, "How long has it been since a man touched you? tasted you? took you? Made you scream in passion as he thrust deep and hard? Made you whimper and quip as he teased you? Gave you a 'proper' fucking? The kind of fucking that leaves you feeling savaged, used and exhausted? Left you with your lips burning and inner thighs searing, with pure desire?.... Has the anticipation of tonight been building? Tell me, did you touch yourself in the days leading up to tonight?" "Yes," she confessed. I grazed her sex with the very tip of my finger. She gasped, not expecting it and then pushed back seeking its entry, "Don't move, I'll have none of that," I commanded as I slapped her ass with the crop, "I want you motionless unless told otherwise." I inserted a fingers and began playing with her lips. As she writhed to control herself, without warning I leveled the crop on her ass, smacking her firmly. She yelped, whimpering in response to the punishment. Her thighs began to shake, "you will hold your release until told otherwise," I commanded, "Do not disappoint me....," I said leaving the consequences for her to ponder. "Shall I touch your bud?" "Please," she begged, with a quiver in her voice. I darted my finger in and out, shallowly penetrating and occasionally plunging deep. Her thighs trembled and breath heightened as she ascended to climax. Unexpectedly I removed my finger. She bit her lower lip and sighed in disappointment. The day light was fading and the room growing dark. I opened the windows to receive the fresh autumn air. Then I lit some candles, which were placed in the corners of the room. I preferred the ambiance, their light casting shadows on the walls as night fell. I was partial to the shadow of Carol bent over in submission, submission to me. "Reach behind with both hands and spread yourself," I directed. Compliantly she did. I dripped eucalyptus scented oil on her tight aperture. With a finger tip, I gently teased and rimmed it. "Have you ever?" I asked. "No," she replied between gnashed teeth as she fought the mounting pleasure. "Shall I?" I asked. "Please, not that, please" she begged as she closed her eyes and braced herself. I continued rimming her ass and gently nudged the digit against her tight aperture to see if she would relax and open. As I teased, I occasionally dripped more oil, which began to run down her ass and across her lips. Her fingers were covered in her juices and the smell of her sex permeated the dry crisp air. "Spread your legs, let me see it," I instructed. "Open them more, pick up your head, push out your ass," I directed as I placed my hand on her back and showed her to arch it down. I softly tapped her upper inner thigh with the crop, close enough to her sex to heighten the fear that the crop would touch it. I observed her rose, its petals spread wide and swollen like a flower reaching to the sky begging for the impending droplets of a nearing rain shower. "You need to calm down. Get on your knees", I directed and she complied. I removed the chair and stood before her in it's place, "Unfasten and remove my pants." Carol blindly fumbled to find my belt buckle, buttons and zipper, trying to work though the mechanics of the task. Her hands nervously shook as she worked in an attempted rapid manner, groping to comply. When the pants were off she pulled down my boxers and sat waiting for direction. "Take it in your hand, stroke it and feel it's length." Her hand wrapped around the shaft, her well manicured slender pale fingers were barely able to get around it. Gently she stroked me. It did not take much effort to get me stiffen. "Taste it, put it in your mouth," I directed. "Oh no, not that, please not my mouth..." she politely protested, "I'll do anything but please not that...." "Anything' is a generous offer," I pointed out knowing she knew the safe word, "and for me 'anything' includes more than you can imagine..." "Please don't make me do this, I beg you, please" she continued. "Do as I say" I told her as I smacked her ass with the crop. Compliantly she stuck out her tongue. With the tip, she dispassionately licked my swollen head. "You can do better," I hinted in an annoyed tone. She opened her mouth and suckled my head, just the head and no more, slowly moving it in and out of her warm mouth. "Deeper," I directed and she took me whole, my cock hitting the back of her throat. I balled her hair in my fist, "Touch my balls with the tips of those pretty little finger nails and gently massage them.... that is it, yes, keep going, oh yes...." I cooed to her. "Shall I unload myself in your mouth?" She shook her head in the negative. I pulled her head closer and pushed myself as deep as I could penetrate and held myself there. "Carol, I want your mouth, want it so bad.... Your lips and face are so beautiful... I can't resist much longer...." I told. To her relief, I slowly pulled out after a few more strokes. "Lean forward, head and shoulders on the floor, knees apart, ass up in the air.... Shall I place myself between your swollen lips and penetrate you?" "Oh yes, please," she begged. Playfully, I very gently tapped her hairy hood with the crop. She was keenly aware that I could tap her harder. As she contemplated what I was doing and what I could do, she slowly raised her hips to get away from the crop. I teased her more and in urn her hips kept rising. Then I unexpectedly laid a one across her ass. It shuddered on impact and she screamed. "Stand up and lean forward," I said as I replaced the chair, keeping the crop on her hairy hood as she rose. As I pushed it into her sex, she stood with her heels raised, toes pointed inward, squirming from the tension of anticipation. I continued pressing the crop against her and reinserted my fingers as she stood perched. "You have done well so far... I have an impression of you. You like to mount your partner, impale yourself and slowly ride him, not raising yourself up, but rather shifting your hips back and forth, rubbing your lips against his pelvis. He has his hands on your hips and holds you as you make love. You are slow and methodical and take your time building to climax, bringing him along with you, timing yourself for release with him so you may feel him climax within you, letting his warmth spread within, making you feel wanted... as you reach the moment, your thighs close tight, your hand presses in and your torso bends over, eyes closed you gasp as the release takes you..... my dear, if I were to let you ride me, I would have you attired in black knee high stiletto heeled boots, a black corset and a black choker- a radical divergence from the woman you are.... and I would not let you sit atop of me, no, you would squat over me, my head just barely within you. You would spread your legs and show me your puritan alabaster thighs. With one hand you would spread your hood and reveal your clit, and, with the other you would touch it, stroke it and rub it, teasing yourself. You would not be permitted to release. I would make you wait and beg and whimper as my head teased your lips and folds and your finger tips gently strummed your clit in a circular motion.... Only after I released would you, and it would be from the highest of heights of rapture that you would descend, screaming and seizing hard, harder than any one before, one that thunders across your body and leaves you gasping for breath, a rewarding release befitting a Pet. Could you do that for me?" "I doubt I could hold myself," she honestly replied. I laid the crop to her ass and she winced as it landed. "I will try," she said correcting herself. I laid another slap of the crop on her tender ass. "I'm sorry, I will control myself," she said. I wanted her very badly, had wanted her since I first laid my eyes on her beauty. I brought my engorged head to her wet lips, gently pressing and stroking it against them. "Carol, may I?" I asked. "Yes," she replied. "Bend over, hands on the seat of the chair." Standing prostrate and available she bit her lower lip in anticipation. I gently pushed myself between her lips and found her path. She gasped as she received me. I held her hips and slowly pushed deep until her lips snugly held the base of my shaft. My head buried deep within her, I held her close and did not move. "Put your feet together," I instructed, "My Pet, you hold me well and you have done good tonight.... How badly do you want to feel my release?" "... please have me," the conservative woman offered. I pulled her hips back and held her, her ass resting hard against my pelvis. I began slightly rocking her forward and back, slowly building tension, my movements being calculated and methodical. "Oh, yes," she quipped. "That is it my Pet, let me know how it feels, let me know you want me." The Word Ch. 03 "Yes, more, please, yes, oh yes....," I pulled her close, feeling her walls flex in the early stages of excitement. "Carol, may I release within you?" I asked intending to heighten her anticipation with the question. She gasped, "Oh g-d yes, please take me....." Hearing the words, I pulled back and then shoved forward hard and held her very tight, my massive hands clutching her hips, holding her like a rag doll. I thrust again. The release caught me by surprise and I seized hard, spilling myself within her impaled rose, my cock throbbing deep within her, my seed streaming out as i took her. She gasped as she felt me spill and submissively received me... I recovered and withdrew leaving her bent over, unsatisfied and wanton for release. I took the scented oil and slowly massaged her pink tenderness, covering her sensitive skin, "...It is ironic- I will never know what your eyes look like- I am sure they are striking- but if we meet in public I am certain I will know who you are. You, on the other hand, will know me only by my voice, my touch and this experience. My image will always be a mystery to you. You may meet other men, or perhaps even me, and if he or I meet the general criteria of what you remember of me you will always wonder if "he" is the one. If we do meet, I will not reveal myself, that I promise, but should you feel a hand gently pat or squeeze your left cheek in a crowded public setting, be certain I am around, my touch symbolizing the incredible experience we have had...." I finished oiling her skin and attached two very thin chains to each garter belt linking the other end to the stocking top, "I know you are going to a social affair tonight... keep these on, they will drag across your sensitive skin and the curve of your tender ass as you walk and sit, a reminder of the pleasure and pain.... do not reveal the pain by facial expression, that too is part of the lesson. Do not touch yourself for a few days after- it is better to be frustrated and think back on tonight, letting the tension sit within you before you give yourself release...." I looked at her half drawn down panties. I removed the garment from between her legs, "These are mine now, a memory of tonight... you will leave here exposed beneath your skirt. Do not put new ones on, that too is part of the lesson, and your other secret while in public... Marketa will be here shortly to get you. Do not remove the blindfold before then." "When may I see you again?" she asked. "You want to see me again? When I am ready," I said, "you must wait and not inquire. I will send you a message through Marketa." I descended the stairs without further word, leaving her standing alone. I wandered off into the dark of the night. After walking a few blocks, I called Marketa on my cell. "How is she?" Marketa asked. "She is waiting for you to retrieve her," I replied deferring the answer to her question, "... are you and Carol involved?" "No, why do you ask, Baby?" I could tell the answer by the tone of her voice and the way she teasingly ended the question she was lying. "Just a hunch, my pet" I said, "just a hunch..."