All week, in anticipation, I have lived increasingly on the edge of anxious anticipation. I have known only that I was instructed to free up a weekend and to await my instructions. My mind has conjured delicious fantasies, wondering how close He could possibly come-- He, still essentially a stranger-- to reading my innermost cravings. Erotically, romantically, sensually, I find myself checking my mail even more frequently than usual to see if the familiar signature is attached to a new message.

I find myself teasing myself in the special way I discovered, languidly playing with myself, stroking, caressing, and arousing myself, but wanting to hold back, always hopeful that finally, with him, it would be possible to surrender more deeply than ever before. And so, thus teased and fondled, I am in a nearly constant state of arousal. I am determined not to give in to the craving for release, but the anticipation and the slowly growing lust continually distract me-- in the supermarket, in the office, in the morning shower, on the phone with friends. I await Him. Patiently, but with ever-deepening excitement, I wait.

Checking mail for what feels like the tenth time that day, I notice my heart beating faster, my breath quickening, as I see that the note has arrived.

The words are simple, yet penetrating in some mysterious way.

"Your instructions:

You will travel to Manhattan very early on the Saturday morning, planning to stay overnight. You plan to arrive at Saks in the late morning on Saturday. You are to pack a small overnight bag, including clothing for an evening out, but a bag small enough to drape over your shoulder, like a purse. Dresses or skirts, no slacks. Underwear which you will feel pretty wearing, and which you will be comfortable being seen wearing by a stranger. Cosmetics. And a soft, feminine nightgown."

I suddenly feel much relieved to read the reference to the nightgown. To me, this means that there is a chance that He will wish to spend the full night with me, a chance to nestle into his arms, to be stroked, comforted, cuddled by Him. The idea makes me grow weak in my knees, as I feel the warmth suffusing me fully. The intensity of my response takes me by surprise, as indeed, everything about Him has taken me by surprise. Taken. The word, even, thrills me.

I read on. "The purpose of the weekend will be for you to be examined and inspected. Your limits will be tested; your worthiness to be trained and to serve will be gauged. You will be entirely safe, of course," (but I already knew that) "but your trust will be tested, and you will know at all times that if I find you wanting in any respect, I will reject you. This will be an opportunity to serve.

"Your training will teach you to contain your arousal, and indeed you will be aroused. You will not be permitted to come until you are granted such permission; you may ask for release, but the decision will be Mine. You will be brought to the very edge of excitement and erotic passion, and taught to hold yourself there for longer that you ever dreamed possible. Through this, I will help you achieve this discipline, and I will discipline you whenever I deem it necessary. I will also teach me to come for Me, to come simply to the sound of My voice telling you to come for Me."

I am aroused fully by the stark directness of his words and images. I marvel at his ability to stir me so, simply with language and emotional understanding. It is precisely what I have yearned for.

I read on. "You are to proceed to the ground floor of this store, to the area where handbags are displayed. You are to be there at precisely noon, when the store will already have filled with shoppers and tourist on a busy late winter afternoon." If I am late, He will not wait for me and I will have missed the opportunity to meet him. I will be dressed in a way that identifies me to Him, but of course I will not know what He looks like. My eyes will scan the busy shop floor, wondering which of the many men is He? He will see me looking, and He will enjoy my uncertainty. At some point, He will say, firmly, "Stay perfectly still and do not turn around". I understand that if I turn around, He will leave and not return.

I feel his hands on my waist, as He leans forward to speak softly into my right ear. The excitement of his lips so close to my ear is electric. "I shall give you your first instructions once, and only once. Listen carefully." He tells me the name and location of a nearby hotel to which I am to proceed. He also gives me a room number. Finally, He tells me that He is slipping a key into the right pocket of my coat. I strain to remember every detail of my instructions, wanting to get it perfectly correct, fearful that I will fail. " Now, stand still and silently count to one hundred. When you have reached one hundred, I will be gone, you will go where you have been directed, and your instructions will await you there."

I want desperately to look around as I sensed him pulling away, but I did not dare do so. When I reached one hundred, I could barely contain my anxiety and my excitement, as I realize that He may have truly disappeared into the crowd, disappeared completely, or may even be still a few feet away, watching me intently. I felt oddly self-conscious, but excited, and I rushed off, already eager to please Him.

When I arrived at the hotel, fully energized by the erotic aura around this encounter, filled with anticipation and expectation, and not a little fear, I noticed for the first time that He had obviously chosen carefully. I was warmed to discover that the hotel He had selected was not one of those boxy, modern commercial hotels, but was the kind typically favored by European tourists, with a more refined and more elegant feel. The choice confirmed my sense that He was possessed of uncommon taste, with an appreciation for detail and sensuality. Self-consciously, but not at all unpleasantly so, I strode through the lobby toward the elevator. I knew which room I was heading for, and so I tried to ignore the stares of the several men in the lobby (again, the men, was one of them Him?). I found myself blushing at the thought that He might just be a few feet away, silently enjoying the feeling that I was befuddled. (Of course I did not know that He was indeed watching, as He had been from the moment He left me earlier, observing me closely and carefully, secure in the knowledge that I was already HIS, that I would soon be giving myself to HIM, fully.)

Oddly, given the instructions, I knocked on the door before inserting the key in the lock. I giggled softly to myself, at my prudery and my anxiety lest I disturb someone. Who else would be there, except perhaps Him, and He had already directed me to let myself in?

When I entered, it was obvious that He had already been there. I first noticed the vase of fresh flowers on the dresser, freshly placed, and I knew instantly they were from Him. A small note propped against the vase read simply, "For you, who will give yourself fully." I was thrilled to read these words, as I had so many times before, I felt myself beginning to grow wet. The phrase "give yourself fully" thrilled me. He was the first to appreciate that my yearning was to be owned, truly possessed, to belong to someone, to give myself fully.

A letter to me was propped up against the vase. After I took off my coat and calmed myself by looking slowly and carefully around the room- their room, I felt sure- I opened the letter, my hands trembling slightly with excitement. "My dear," it began, "you are to open the drawer of the nightstand beside the bed. In it, you will find a blindfold. Remove it, for you will be wearing it when I arrive. Take the straight chair by the desk, place it in the center of the room, directly opposite and facing the entry door. Seat yourself, put the blindfold on, and await my arrival. You will find yourself growing both aroused and nervous. You may savor your arousal, but you are not to touch yourself at all, no matter how erotically stimulated you feel."

Each time I read his words, and I re-read them over and over and over, they excited me anew. It was as if He had been able to penetrate to the depths of my soul, to read my deepest and most forbidden fantasies, sometimes putting them into words before I myself knew for sure they were indeed my wishes. It was an experience unlike anything I had ever known before. Dream come true, and in becoming real it became more exciting than even the most stirring dreams I had yet dreamed. To give myself fully. To be owned. To be fully owned. By HIM.

I pulled myself, with some effort, out of the reverie I was swooning into, suddenly anxious lest He arrive and find me unready, or even that He might think me disobedient. I brushed my hair again, looked at myself in the mirror, trying to smooth out imaginary wrinkles in my blouse and my skirt, smiled shyly at my image in the bathroom mirror and again tried to imagine how He would respond to seeing me. I found myself saying the words aloud. "Fully owned," "owned by Him," and finally, simply, "HIS." Saying "His" aloud thrilled me, and I felt the goosebumps all over my arms and neck as I said it aloud. Emboldened, I said aloud, aware that no one was able to hear, feeling safely alone, "I want to belong to You, Sir." And then, gulping hard, I said aloud, "I am yours, Master," at which point I felt my face flush red, embarrassed that the words were now out there, and could not be taken back.

Thrilled to have excited myself so, I hurried to seat myself as He had directed. This was His wish, His desire. My Master's desire. Nothing was more exciting than the idea of knowing my Master’s desire, and knowing that I could please Him. I seated myself expectantly in the chair, blindfolded, and awaited Him. Him. His. Owned. The words rushed in at me, overwhelming me with their meaning and their power. Again, I slipped into an erotic reverie, which was interrupted by the sound of the key in the door. He was here, Here for me. He was here to take me. Because I was His. I would soon belong to Him. Him. My heart beat faster and faster as I heard him wordlessly removing his coat, slowly walking around me. I felt the soft motion of the air disturbed by his encircling me, and longed to embrace the air, the air He had touched, straining to be closer to Him, to be found attractive and acceptable to him.

He stood behind the chair and spoke, softly, gently, as He placed his right hand on my right shoulder, just beside my neck. "You are very beautiful, my dear. Your beauty pleases me." I shuddered-- fearful, thrilled, filled with foreboding, trembling with desire. I felt a surge of relief that He was there with me, that He found me pleasing, and that He wanted me. He had told me to wear a tailored blouse, which buttoned up the front and a plain or pleated dark skirt. It pleased me that He seemed to appreciate the style of dress I naturally gravitated toward, but I did not want to appear too plain or uninteresting, and worried that if I dressed up too much, He would be displeased. His words reassured me that I had dressed just right. And so I was startled to hear him say aloud exactly what I had just been thinking. "You have dressed precisely right, exactly as I wished you to," he said, as his hand stroked the side of my neck.

It surely did not escape me that I was alone, in a locked hotel room, with a perfect stranger. I, who had always been so cautious, so determine to live in a responsible and careful way. And yet, the fact that I was surrendering to a stranger's commands was at the core of the extraordinary appeal of this encounter. I had willingly and even eagerly offered myself and my body to this man, this stranger, to be used entirely as the object of His desire. And the fact that I was offering myself up for objectification and use was, to me, indeed thrilling. Thrilling, in fact, beyond anything I had yet experienced with any man, except of cause in my secret fantasies. For this, our time together, I would exist for Him and His pleasure alone. I would be his slave; He would be my Master.

I felt his hand slip away from my shoulder, and stroke my hair, making me feel like I wanted to melt into his hand. His fingertips moved down to caress my neck softly and then up to my face gently rubbing my right cheek. I felt him moving around to face me and heard him say, "Give me your hands." I did so eagerly, and as soon as I had done so, I hoped He would not be put off by my eagerness. I longed to see Him, but I was aware that it was His wish that I remain blindfolded, so I trusted Him fully as He took my hands in both of his, helping me to stand up, facing him. When I did so, He continued to hold both of my hands, and I sensed again that He was much taller than I was, I guessed about six feet. I began to feel exposed, and wished to bury myself in his chest, hiding, but I knew He would not wish me to hide from him, and so I forced myself to remain in place.

I felt him bring my hands up to his lips, and unbelievably, He kissed the tips of my fingers. Such gentle thoughtfulness, such kindness, such respect, such softness. I was touched and thrilled by the gesture, as I heard him say again, "You are very beautiful. Your beauty pleases me." I thought I would never tire of hearing him say that. It thrilled me. Especially the part about pleasing him. I felt I would do anything to please Him, it was my heart's desire.

He then brought my hands, open, against his chest, pressing them against his heart so close that I could literally feel his heart beating. I thought I could feel his heartbeat quicken, and I knew I felt the warmth emanating from his body. As He did so, He began to speak, and in saying the words He spoke, I felt sure that his heart was beating faster. "I am going to take you, my dear. Take you, and make you mine. You will belong to me. To me, only, and no one else." Here his heart began to race, and mine raced with him at hearing those precious words. "You will belong to me. I will own you. You will give yourself to me. Give yourself fully to me. You will be mine."

"Yes Sir," I heard myself saying, as if from some deep recess within me that spoke almost automatically, as if I had been preparing to say those words forever. "I will be yours, Sir, if you will have me." I felt almost unworthy, and He, sensing that, said aloud, "I would teach you of all my desires, so that you will know how to please me." I suddenly became aware that my panties had become soaking wet and I hoped He would not be displeased, suddenly find me unworthy because I could not control my desire.

"Please, Sir," I said aloud, "let me prove worthy of belonging to you."

He continued: "I shall teach you what arouses me and how to arouse me. I shall teach you to become aroused by arousing me. I shall teach you to become aroused for me. When you become aroused, I shall hold you at the very edge of arousal until I am ready for you to come for me. When you are not aroused, I shall arouse you. You will learn to become aroused when I direct you to be, and shall teach you to cum to the sound of my voice, saying simply and softly, 'I want you to cum for me now.'"

I grew aroused at hearing his directness and confidence. All I could say, with deep gratitude and growing feeling of intimate connection, was "Yes, Sir. I shall be yours, sir."

"As I train you," He said, "you will be perfectly safe. No harm will come to you, I will never hurt you, and I shall always be respectful of your feelings and limits." Of course, I already knew all that-- I could not possibly be here if I had felt otherwise-- but nevertheless appreciated his saying it. It was courteous, personal, and respectful. Also reassuring.

"I shall begin with your innocence and your virginity, my dear...I shall explore every inch of your body, caressing and exploring you, so that you and I both, together, can discover what pleasures you, and you will have no secrets from me."

Again, I felt myself growing wet with excitement and anticipation. Never, ever, ever had I felt the promise of such intimacy, except of course in my private fantasies. Now, He had entered those, and I felt I would never be alone again. I would belong to Him, and I gloried proudly in the knowledge that they would share such intimacies together.

"My dear," He said. They were words I had seen him write to me over and over, and I did so desperately want him to have dear feelings for me. "Put your hands on my shoulders," He said, a bit more commandingly than He had spoken before, and I did so in an instant. I felt his fingertips move to the to button of my blouse, expertly opening it nimbly. "Now put your hands on the back of my neck, and hold me in the most caring, tender way you know how," He said. I complied eagerly and with great desire to please him. He moved down to the second button, and then to the third. I knew now that my breasts were beginning to be exposed, that He could see the new white lace-trimmed bra I had bought for the weekend, obsessing endlessly when I chose it, trying to imagine what He would like. As if reading my thoughts, again, He said aloud, "Your beauty pleases me." I felt my chest heaving, sighing, and suddenly felt like I wanted to cry. I bit my lower lip softly, and immediately his hand moved up to my cheek, stroking it softly, and his fingertip moved over and across my lips. Involuntarily, I pursed my lips to kiss his fingertip, and no sooner had I done so than I grew anxious lest He would find me too forward. He stroked my cheek again in a way I found comforting and reassuring.

His fingers continued down the front of my blouse, until all of the buttons were open, and gently pulled the tails of my blouse out of my skirt, so I was standing with my hands around his neck, blouse unbuttoned, before him. I felt his hands on my naked waist, slowly exploring my torso, carefully and kindly acquainting me with the feel of his hands on my body. It was surely the most intimate moment I had ever tasted with a man, as I felt fully exposed and fully trusted, wanting nothing more than to be found pleasing.

"Come, my dear," He said, when his hands had grown familiar with my torso, though not yet with my breasts, my skin still tingling from his touch, "let me lead you here." As I followed willingly, concerned still that I not appear too eager, He led me in the direction of the corner of the room, placed me facing a wall, and stood behind me. "I want you to watch carefully, for I am now going to remove your blindfold."

I gasped at the prospect of such exposure. The irony did not escape me, either, that I had allowed a stranger to unbutton my blouse, caress my naked belly and my sides, and see my in her bra...and then, remarkably, the prospect of his taking off my blindfold left me feeling more exposed, more naked, and more vulnerable than I had yet felt with this stranger. It was as if, now for the first time, He would really see whom I am and I suddenly felt shy.

As I had come to expect of Him, He sensed my shyness just as suddenly as I felt it, and from behind me, He slipped his arms around front of my waist, leaned forward into me from behind, and kissed me softly on my right ear. At the same moment I was reassured, He reached up and suddenly took my blindfold off. Suddenly, I became aware that they were standing before a full-length mirror, and I understood that He could watch me and I could watch him undressing me. The effect was extraordinary-- I saw him for the very first time, tenderly kissing me, and for the first very first time felt totally exposed to his view. I decided instantly that I liked the way He looked, but I was consumed with curiosity to gaze upon Him, with the almost proprietary feeling that He was mine, even though I knew that in truth, it was I who was owned by Him. I alternately stole glances at him, and looked away shyly. I saw what He could see, that a deep red blush had crept down my face, over my neck and my chest.

He told me that He was going to take off all of my clothing, as slowly as possible, and that I was to watch him undressing me. He also told me that He would be exploring my arousal as He did so, and that He would talk to me as He undressed me and stroked my body, telling me of everything that I would be seeing. I would not be able to escape from the look, and the feel, and the sound of his inspection of my body, in the most intimate way. He would be probing my body and my soul at the same time. There could be no hiding, and his ownership would grow more complete.

And so He began. First, He told me He would be slipping my blouse off my shoulders, one shoulder at a time, and as He did so, He stroked and caressed every soft and rounded area of my shoulders, moving his fingertips down my arms, and over my finger, until my blouse dropped to the floor. Then, his hand began to stroke and caress my neck, beneath my chin, over my cheeks, slowly pausing over my lips, which were now moistened with desire as I felt my breath quicken and become halting. He pointed out to me that my breathing was becoming more excited, and his hand moved down over my chest to show me more graphically how my chest was rising and falling. I felt the tingling all over my body, my vagina becoming wet, and I leaned back into his body, as if I had no choice but give myself yieldingly to him in any way.

As I did so, I was startled but delighted to discover that He leaned in toward me, moving me closer with his right hand on my chest, and that I could feel him throbbing and hard behind me. I had aroused HIM! My greatest wish had come true, and my appetite and my arousal grew. I waited impatiently as his fingers slowly, slowly, slowly moved downward toward the top of my left breast, his fingertip tracing the lacy line of the top of my bra, until his fingers gently inserted themselves between my bra and my bare left breast. His fingers literally slid down to the left nipple, and He smiled as He told me, "My dear, your nipple is hard.... that means that you are welcoming my touch on your breast." His fingers squeezed my nipple very very gently, and I felt a surge of warmth inside my chest and a sinking, queasy feeling in my belly. I wanted Him. I wanted to feel wanted by Him. And I felt that He wanted me, I felt as if our bodies melted together, and in that moment, we were one. He sensed this, of course, and leaned forward again, pressing his lips in a lingering fashion against my right ear, so that I could hear his breathing quicken also.

At the moment, I moaned softly, and He whispered in my ear, "Good girl." How did He know that those were the magic words for me? How could He know me so well? I moaned again, deeper, more freely, and again He told me that I was his "good girl." I felt his right hand clasp my left breast fully, cupping it firmly and securely, and I knew I was where I was meant to be, in his hands, in his arms, entirely His. I felt the fingers of his left hand move up to unclasp my bra, and He deftly removed the straps from my shoulders, dropping my bra over my arms.

With my breast fully exposed, I stared straight ahead into the mirror as He brought both arms around me cupped both of my breasts with his hands. Expertly caressing, stroking, and securing my breasts, I felt myself reaching another peak of arousal, and He told me that He could see that I was very excited. His fingers moved down to unbutton my skirt, which fell to the ground as I stepped carefully out of it. He said He was going to move his hands, very slowly, down my belly, over my upper thighs, and to the warm, moist area between my legs. He told me that I was going to become increasingly excited, that I was free to moan or whimper, but that I was not permitted to cum unless He granted permission.

When his hand reached the mound of my vagina, over my panties, white with lace trim to match my new bra, He felt the wetness (in fact, by now I was soaking wet) and He told me, "It pleases me to find you wet, my dear. When I have trained you, you will become wet when you hear the sound of my voice, and when I tell you I want you to become aroused for me." I did not think that would require much training, since it all happened so naturally, and I squeezed my legs together involuntarily. His hand probed, teased, and caressed the wet mound from the outside of my panties, and I longed to turn around and throw my arms around him, passionately kiss him, and allow myself to be taken fully.

But He was by no means ready for such a total release. What aroused Him was bringing me more slowly to the peak, filling me with tormenting delight of anticipation of a depth previously unknown to me. I became more and more wet, his fingers soaked fully with my musk, and then He brought the fingers of his right hand up to my face, rubbing his fingers below my nostrils, and over my lips.

"This is the scent of your arousal, my dear...it pleases me to know that you have become aroused for me." I found the scent of myself, and his directness and freedom in speaking of it, deliciously arousing, and I felt still more nectar flowing into my panties as I moaned and writhed in his arms while He stood behind me. I felt myself drifting into an almost transcendent state, a sexual ecstasy I had never before felt, in which I could almost feel myself leaving my body. Time stood perfectly still, and it could have been hours while He played with me, and He spoke softly to me of my arousal, and leaned in close to me, rubbing his erect penis against me.

At some point, I could not subsequently say when, He led me, panties still on, to the bed. He lay me down on my belly, and moved a small pillow under my groin, so that my buttocks were slightly raised. As if from nowhere, He produced four long. black velvet ropes, which He proceeded to use to tie my wrist and my ankles to the bed, so that my arms and my legs were wide apart. I was not at all uncomfortable in the position (although He asked me if I felt comfortable) but since I was not at all immobile I felt fine. It was clear, though, that I was fully restrained, and that I was now even more under his control.

"Now, my dear," He said, once certain that I was comfortable, or at least as comfortable as I could be in such a state of erotic arousal, "I am going to pull your panties down to your knees, and begin to explore your pussy." It was the first time He used the word "pussy", and it felt as though a barrier had been crossed. I again felt exposed, vulnerable, and oddly, renewed with desire, even lust. Again, the flow of wetness overwelmed me as I felt my buttocks squeeze together and my hips rose up involuntarily. He told me that He was going to take the middle finger of his right hand, and begin to caress just my vaginal lips and my clitoris, until He was clear that I was sufficiently aroused to please him. When He was satisfied with my arousal, He was going to place just the very tip of his middle finger just inside my vaginal lips and leave it there, perfectly still, for as long as I could stand it. Then, He was going to move his finger, as slowly as possible, deeper, a fraction of an inch at a time, deeper inside me. He would then let it rest there, and then, as slowly and deliberately as before, He would move it slowly out, until only the very tip of his finger rested between my lips. He would continue to move his finger slowly, very slowly, in and out for as long as it pleased him to do so. The anticipation of this friction drove me wild with desire, and I could scarcely believe what He said next.

"Your task, my dear, will be to lie perfectly still when my finger is inside you. I am going to teach you to contain you desire and your arousal until I permit you to release it. You may not move your hips, you may not squeeze your legs together, and you surely may not cum, not until I give you permission. You may moan if you become uncomfortably aroused, but you must keep your body perfectly still...Do you understand?"

Before I could object, before I could signal my assent, before I knew what was happening, I felt my panties being pulled gently down, exposing my cheeks, and I could feel the cool air over the moist, glistening pubic hair. No sooner had my panties been positioned in precisely the way He wanted by the pillow beneath me, I began to feel the fingers of his left hand gently opening the lips of my vagina, and the idle finger of his right hand come to rest firmly but gently on my clit.

With great effort, I settled into the almost hypnotic, rhythmic slow movement of his finger, in and out, punctuated by an occasional teasing encircling of my clit, and then back to the in-and-out movement of his finger inside me. I had become so wet that his finger virtually slid effortlessly inside me, my muscles inside my vagina so relaxed and so inviting that the movements were effortless for him.

It took enormous effort for me to comply with his demand that I be perfectly still. I wanted nothing more than to follow his lead, to allow his finger and his rhythm to transport me with him to wherever He would lead. I strained not to move my hips. I wanted my buttocks to rise and fall with his melodies, to push toward him, to take him inside me, to welcome him, to give myself fully to Him, to offer the worship, the tribute of my Love, to the extraordinary devotion He was paying to my arousal. Increasingly, it began to be an almost religious and sacred feeling, to be so in awe, so worshipful, so devoted, so focused.

Constrained for motion, I tried to content myself with my moans and my breathing. I moaned softly, I moaned loudly, I tried breathing rhythmically, I breathed spasmodically. Nothing helped to contain the arousal, and its ecstasy I felt myself rising higher, breathing faster, moaning louder and more plaintive.

"Please, oh please," I heard myself say, and He, coaxingly, asked, as if unaware, "Please? Please what, my pet?"

"Please Sir," I whimpered, "please."

"Please what?" He asked again, determined to coax my blushing shame because it aroused him to see me so exposed and humiliated.

"Please let me cum ,Sir." I felt myself flush with humiliation as the words came out, as if regarding them as a sign of weakness and failure, sure that He would regard me as pitiful for being so unable to contain my need.

"You are nowhere near ready to come, my pet. Obviously, you need more training." And so He continued, teasing, taunting, insinuating with both his finger and with his occasional questions about whether I could feel my pussy, whether I liked being stroked in this way, whether He was becoming aroused, and whether I had ever been taken in this way.

From time to time, He would remove his finger from me, and bring his finger to my nose so that I could again become suffused with my own scent. I found myself looking forward to these interludes, because no one had ever directed me attention in quite this way to the odors of my own sexuality. Before, when I thought about the smells, if at all, I felt vaguely uneasy, fearful that someone would think I smelled bad, and anxious lest the odor be offensive. But He, He actually seemed to enjoy the scent. He teased me with it in a way that quickly brought me into a high state of arousal, letting me know that He regarded my scent as part of my appeal and my beauty. And so when He began to caress my lips with his scented finger, I found myself opening them slightly, hoping that He would allow me to suck on his finger. Of course, He sensed that desire instantly, and He pushed his finger gently between my lips, seeming to enjoy the way with which I would suck on the tip of his finger, hungry for more, and trying to content myself with having at least this bit of him inside my warm and moist spaces. And so I invited his finger to make love to my lips and tongue, and miraculously, I found myself moaning and wanting to writhe with excitement and pleasure at the feeling of his finger making love to my mouth. His knowledge and expertise, his Mystery, of the erotic fascinated me and drew me even deeper into his mysteries.

I had the clear sense that He could bring me to orgasm, if that was His wish, simply by playing gently with my lips and my tongue with but one finger. But when He sensed that I was getting closer, that my moans were becoming deeper, I was sucking more intense, He withdrew his finger from my mouth, and gently brushed my sweaty hair out of my eyes, brushing it back over my forehead, and gently resting his hand on my cheek, asking if I was ok.

Once I had settled down some, his hand returned to my clitoral and vaginal area, to resume the incessant stroking and caressing. And each time He would return, He would find me in a still higher state of arousal, each time more quickly moving to the peaks of excitement, which I was finding so difficult to contain. And, to make matters worse for my struggle to restrain myself, the rhythmic in and out of his finger grew more rapid each time He returned to stimulate me there, so that in time his finger was moving in and out as rapidly as He would be in the throes of intercourse.

Eventually I could not take it any longer, or so I felt, and I succumbed to the nearly irresistible desire to move my hips in a raising up and down motion, just to relieve the unbearable tension.

Suddenly, his finger withdrew, followed by an eerie and ominous silence. In that pause of stunning stillness, I thought I felt him move away, thought I heard something swooshing through the air, moving the air around my buttocks, but before I could make sense of what was happening, I felt the sudden, stinging crack of a riding crop over my bear buttocks. First there was nothing, just a silence, then there was a searing, reddening pain and then dead silence again.

I felt crushed; I felt that I had failed Him. And that I must now forever be banished, unworthy of His hopes for me and of my deepening romantic dreams about him. I felt humiliated, deeply ashamed of what I had done, deserving of the severe punishment He had administered. And now the silence! What horrid thoughts must He be thinking, what derisive feelings must He be feeling? I felt mounting within me, in the same crescendo I had felt erotic arousal, a deep shame which developed into an irresistible urge to weep, to wail piteously, to withdraw, to retreat, to hide myself away in deep shame.

Feeling my breasts and chest turn beet red in total shame, I began to cry, uncontrollably. In an instant He released me from your bonds as if they were tied simply with slip knots, slipped me panties off, gathering me up in his arms, and seated himself against the headboard of the bed, telling me sharply to come into his arms. He took me in his lap, encircled me with his arms, tightly, and pressed his face next to mine, murmuring softly in to my ear.

"My dear little pet."

I could scarcely believe my ears, to hear him speak so softly and kindly to me, emotionas now in a confusing and tangled whirl. And I began to weep and to shake in fear as I wept.

He allowed me to cry in his arms, which I felt securely holding me, and when I began to calm down, He kissed my eyelids and my tear-streaked cheeks. His kisses were mild, gentle and caring, and then I heard him say, through the fog of confused feelings, "My dear, you are beautiful, your beauty pleases me." I began to cry softly, again as I heard him say, as He pulled his face slightly away from mine, "Put your arms around my neck." I did, and then heard him say, "Kiss me."

He brought my lips to his, his lips touched me, and He began to kiss me, softly at first, and then He pulled away again, and said, sternly, "Kiss me hard." I threw myself into the kiss, kissing him more passionately then I had ever kissed anyone, hungrily thrusting my tongue into his mouth, giving myself fully to him, filled with love for him and with gratitude for his forgiveness.

We kissed together, passionately, for an eternity, until I felt I would faint from excitement and desire. He allowed me to rest my head on his shoulder continuing to hold me. When I was somewhat becalmed, He helped me to my feet, and put his arms around me again, my arms instinctively hugged him, as closely as I could.

"Sir," I said, "thank you."

"Be very still," I heard him say, and I felt him pressing against me, feeling the throbbing of his erection straining to touch me from beneath his trousers, I obeyed, remaining very still, and beginning thus to feel the mounting desire within me.

"Feel the waves within you. Feel the waves of feeling. Feel them in your breathing." And I felt them. And as I felt them, I began to hear myself moaning softly. Each time I moaned, He held me closer, and I felt my breathing becoming yet more excited.

"Don't stop," He said encouragingly, as my excitement mounted still higher and I held on to him tightly in an effort to contain the feeling. At the moment I felt I could not contain it any longer, I felt his lips and his breath next to my ear, and I heard him say, very softly, "I want you to come for me now."

At those words, my soul and body joined together in paroxysms of release. I held tightly to him and felt him holding and supporting me as I exploded in love and passion. My passion came in waves, first small ones, than larger ones, and though I tried to count them, I could barely keep my mind on anything but the joyous, ecstatic release I was privileged to enjoy in his arms, until finally, in a full burst if passion, my body simply began to twitch and convulse, as I came in his arms, truly giving myself fully to Him.

"You are beautiful when you cum for me. You have pleased me," He said to me, as He helped me back to the bed, laying me on my back, and lying down next to me, arms around me. Never before in my life had I known sexual release such as this and I knew that I belonged to him, truly belonged. That He owned me. That I had given myself to him. Given myself fully. Fully owned. By my master. Mine. MY Master.

"Thank you, Sir," I said, "you have made me very happy. I belong to you Sir. I am yours." ==============================================================

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