The Essence of Helena

'What do you say? Come on, it feels real nice!'

'I don't know,' I said, 'I don't know.'

She led me to the bathroom, and sat me down on a plastic stool by the shower, then snipped away all the longest hair with her nail scissors before lathering my whole pubic

area thoroughly. Then, with a new razor, she started to shave, taking infinite care to get absolutely every vestige of hair from my mound, around my labia, between my pussy and my anus, and all around the crack of my arse. She took a long time over it, and well before she was finished, she had me quite excited as she worked her gentle way around my tender pussy. After she had finished, she worked soothing lotion into the whole shaven area, and told me I should have to keep up the shaving regularly from then on. When I stood and walked about, it felt very strange, and Mitzi assured me it would feel lovely when I went out into the open air without panties. I was soon to find out.

When the door-bell sounded, I was dressed in the dress we had chosen and a pair of stilettos I had bought on 34th Street the day before. Although I was decently covered, I felt obscene as I walked out to Don Vicente's car naked and shaven under my thin cotton dress, and when I glanced at Mitzi, I could see the darkness of her nipples through the translucent cotton of her dress.

Don Vicente complemented us both on our appearance, and fondled my knee briefly as he threw the Lexus into 'drive' when we set off for our destination.

We drove out up the Hudson River for about half an hour north of Manhattan, and turned off on a wooded bluff overlooking a bend in the river. There, hidden amongst the trees, was a big, low, rambling mansion set in fine gardens. A big party was taking place, far different from any type of barbecue I had ever attended before, all the women young and elegant, the men all looking relaxed and attractive.

When we got out of the car, I nudged Mitzi and said, 'I think we strayed onto a film set!'

'Relax!' she said, 'you'll be fine,' but I was acutely conscious still of my naked, shaven pussy, the breeze wafting around it as I walked around the lawns, and every time I caught a guy looking at me, I felt sure he could tell I was wearing nothing under my dress. After a while, I began to enjoy the sensation, especially when I got used to seeing them looking openly at Mitzi's tits jiggling as she walked, their points clearly showing through the flimsy white cotton. She obviously revelled in the attention. My new stilettos also gave me a lovely sensation – the highest heels I had ever worn, their discomfort was like a reminder of my sexuality. I was learning new things about my body all the time.

Don Vicente had been talking to friends, and had left us to our own devices for some time, but when the three-piece band started playing, he came over and led me to the maple dance-floor and we danced for a long time. I loved to dance, and he told me he liked the way I followed the rhythms. I told him that it was in my genes, as my mother had once been a professional dancer. But slow numbers were a new experience for me, in my near-naked state, and when Don Vicente's hand crept down to my buttocks during a smoochy rumba, I knew he could tell I wasn't wearing anything under my dress. And, unless I was mistaken, he had a growing erection pressing against my body as we danced.

The band called for an interval, and we went to sit down. Mitzi was nowhere to be seen, but the gathering was considerable, and the grounds extensive, so I was unconcerned.

We sat together on a lounger, and Don Vicente fetched me a drink – some vodka cocktail concoction – then took my hand in his.

'Helena,' he said, 'I am much older than you, as you know. I also believe, however, that our needs may coincide at this moment. Your friend Mitzi has just consented to become to my friend Mariano what I think you may become to me.'

'But…but – he has just whipped her!' I said, aghast.

'Yes, my dear, that's right, she was punished late last night – I was watching.'

'You watched?'

'Now you're really shocked. Yes, I watched him whip her. But I didn't stay to see them make love afterwards.'

'And you think I will want you to do the same to me. You must be insane!' I spat out the words, and stalked off, looking for my friend.

I sought her all over the gardens in the late afternoon warmth, and it wasn't until quite a bit later that I found a little gazebo by the side of a lily pond. It was closed on three sides, but when I walked quietly around it, what I saw made me pull quickly back. There was Mitzi, over a wooden table, dress around her waist, her feet barely touching the ground, legs apart, with a young blond guy, who could have been no more than twenty years of age, pounding her in the arsehole with his impressive cock, while she held her arse-cheeks apart with both hands, the better to accommodate him.

And she was saying to him, distinctly, 'Fuck me, fuck me in the arse, you horny bastard, fuck me in the arsehole.'

I stood back in the cover of the bushes, where I could just see the erotic scene, and, reaching under my skirt, found my naked slit, already seeping secretions. I felt my clit harden instantly, and my vision started to blur faintly as juices welled within me.

Then a terrible, awful thing happened. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around in panic, and was looking into the sardonic face of Don Vicente. He had a finger to his lips, and I stifled a scream. Things took on a pace of their own: he grasped my wrist and pulled me gently away to a safe distance, at the other side of a copse of trees, and took me in his strong arms. Suddenly I was kissing him with a passion I never knew was within me letting his tongue explore my open mouth, while his hands roamed over my breasts, teasing my nipples to hardness, through the thin material of my dress.

'Come,' he said, and led me to the house, up some stone stairs, along a corridor and up a short curved staircase into a small bedroom.

I got onto the bed, and he stood beside it while I pulled down his zipper, and released his cock from its prison. I gazed at it wonderingly for a moment, then instinctively took him into my lips, sucking his whole length, taking him deep into my throat, watching the ecstasy in his eyes.

But I knew I had to have him inside me now, and be a virgin no more. I pushed him away, and lay back, impatiently fishing a pillow out from under my head, and then ramming it under my arse.

'Come on, then,' I said to him, 'fuck me!'

He was hard as a rock and tore my maidenhead without any problem, scarcely noticing my little scream as he forced his way into me, but the pain was nothing compared to the wild joy his fucking brought me, when I sheathed him in my agile young cunt, and as I came in glorious technicolour, and he flooded me with his red-hot spunk.

'I really didn't know you were a virgin, Helena,' he told me, while he was still inside me.

'Not any more,' I said, 'thank you!'

He looked at me to see that I wasn't being sarcastic, and then said quietly, 'I'm sorry if I shocked you with what I said earlier. Your friend said she thought you might be interested. Incidentally, the guy in her arse just now was Mariano's chauffeur.'

His eyes were laughing as he said this, and I was still so full of him, both literally and figuratively, that I didn't want to consider anything beyond that moment.

I kept him inside me, and I somehow knew I could arouse him again, if I could keep him there a while. Gradually, very gradually, I started to move, to nibble his ear, and to rub my firm breasts up and down his hairy chest, grazing my sharp nipples against him until he bent down and bit them, one after the other, causing me to cry out, and him to harden inside me perceptibly. I remembered something I had once read in an erotic book, and, reaching behind him, shoved my long-nailed forefinger hard up his rectum. His rod stiffened instantly and fully, and he started to fuck me again, slowly at first, but then in a hard, fast rhythm, pounding in and out, slapping his balls against my arse as he reached his full length inside me. I flexed my cunt-muscles to pull him into me and release him alternately, and he grunted his satisfaction. I felt a sensation of utter control, and knew I could let him shoot his load when I wanted, so timed it to my own rushing, welling, screaming orgasm, then drained him of his seed.

Mariano was due to arrive later, and would go with Mitzi to pick up his car, so Don Vicente told me that he would take me home alone.

On the way, he told me that Mariano had told him that Mitzi was going to live with him as his slave at weekends, but stay in our apartment during the week. He would support her financially.

'I am prepared to talk about a similar arrangement for ourselves, whenever you wish to discuss it,' he said, as he dropped me off at the apartment.

'I'll think about it,' I heard myself saying. Did I really say that, I asked myself?

Again, he merely gave me a formal goodnight kiss, and quickly left.

I was already in bed, half asleep, when Mitzi arrived home. She dropped into bed and was asleep in seconds, breathing deeply and peacefully.

Breakfast was our usual hurried affair of toast and coffee next morning, so there was no time to talk, and we left to get the Metro downtown to our respective workplaces with promises to chat that evening.

When I got home, Paula was sat at the kitchen table, eating a croissant, and looking happy, her mouthful of white teeth contrasting beautifully as ever with her dark skin when she grinned. Mitzi came out of the bathroom just as I arrived, her hair wrapped in a towel. They had been talking about me, and I should have been annoyed, but when Paula got up and took a bottle of champagne out of the fridge, I had to laugh.

'Don't tell us you haven't got something to celebrate!' she said, popping the cork.

I certainly felt as though my life could now enter a new phase.

'But how did you know?' I wanted to know.

'Oh, come on, girl,' said Mitzi, 'just which banana boat do you think I arrived on? Anyway, I know you know about my arrangement with Mariano.'

She then showed us a beautiful silver and diamond collar that Mariano had given her.

'He wants me to wear this whenever I am out of the apartment – it sort of denotes ownership,' she said.

I whistled softly, 'It sounds a bit heavy to me,' I said.

'I'm proud to be his slave,' said Mitzi, 'nothing has ever given me so much pleasure in my life.'

I sipped the champagne with my two friends, and pondered the events of the weekend, wondering at my own reaction when Don Vicente had proposed an 'arrangement,' which I ought to have found outrageous.

Paula passed a hand across in front of my face. 'Hey, anyone at home?'

'Sorry,' I said, 'miles away!'

'Thinking about Vicente's proposal?' asked Mitzi.

'Shit – you know about that, too?'

'Of course! And you are interested, aren't you?'

'I….I don't know, really I don't.'

'I think you do,' said Mitzi, smiling. Then, as an afterthought, she asked, 'By the way, did you go without panties to work today?'

By way of a reply, I raised my knee-length skirt until they could see my naked pussy.

I was, in truth, enjoying the feeling of nakedness under my outer clothing – it gave me a sensation of availability, of sexuality, that I had craved, and being clean-shaven was also very stimulating to my senses. I think these may have been factors in making up my mind. I had, it was true, only a vague idea of what being a 'slave' entailed, but I simply liked the sound of it.

It took me two days to get around to phoning Don Vicente, and when I did, I got a secretary, who only put me through with reluctance. He came on the line.

'De Alcaráz speaking!'

'Don Vicente?'

'Who is this?'

'Helena.'

'Oh. My dear. How can I help you?'

'I've been thinking………..about your proposal. Can you talk?'

'Of course. I hope you have decided to accept?'

'Well, yes, but I'm a little scared, I suppose. I don't know what to expect.'

'You don't need to be afraid my dear. I'll pick you up tonight at eight, and tell you what you need to know.'

All day I was in a kind of dream state, not knowing what I expected of my new Master, only that he was, indeed, to be my undisputed Master

When he called for me, punctually at eight that evening, I was ready, dressed in a simple flared burgundy cotton miniskirt, pale blue silk blouse and stilettos. He drove me to an apartment I had never seen before, in a condo on the Upper West Side, with a uniformed doorman and a lift with polished brasswork.

Once inside, he presented me with a Martini, and told me to sit down while he outlined the rules he expected me to follow.

He said, 'These are the conditions under which I expect you to work, and which I expect you to agree to,' and he passed me a sheet of paper, laying down the rules:-

1.You are to come to me every Friday evening after you finish work, at this address. 2.You will have a room here for your use, which will contain all the clothes, jewellery, cosmetics and so forth that you need.

3.While you are here, you will address me as 'Master' and submit to my requirements.

4.You will return to your own apartment each Sunday evening at ten thirty.

5.You will receive adequate remuneration for your services, paid monthly in advance.

6.You will reveal to no one the presence or whereabouts of these premises.

7.If you agree to the above conditions, you will make a commitment to me. You have the option of cancellation after one weekend, always respecting condition Nº 6, above.

There was a space for my signature, and he passed me a gold Mont Blanc pen. I read through the form, and signed.

'But I still don't know what I'm supposed to do, really,' I said.

'You will, my dear,' he said, 'I'm going to show you how to get here from the Metro, and then we can leave the details until Friday, can't we?'

I nodded dumbly, and somehow got through the next couple of days.

Friday evening, and, as per Don Vicente's instructions, I caught the Metro, dressed in the same simple skirt and blouse I had worn two nights before, and with nothing but a small purse. I found the condo with ease, and the black doorman, whose name was Wilmore, was expecting me, and handed me a tiny envelope which contained a key. I rode up to the sixteenth floor, and let myself in.

On the hall table was a single red rose, with a note propped against it, written in Don Vicente's neat hand.

It said: Your room is the third door on the right. Put on the clothes you will find on the bed. I shall be home by nine.

I glanced at my watch, it was just after eight. I had plenty of time to make myself beautiful for my new Master.

I stood and marvelled at the regency splendour of the room he had prepared for me. It had a huge four-poster bed, a great range of mirrored wardrobes, and an en-suite bathroom, equipped with a vast range of perfumes and toiletries.

There was time later to explore the wardrobes and cupboards. For now, he had laid out my clothes on the bed. I picked up a gown of scarlet silk as fine as gossamer. I undressed, in a hurry to try it on. It was long, floor-length, with a high neck and long sleeves, but completely backless. I climbed onto the matching platform-soled, needle-heeled shoes, and cinched the silver chain he had left there around my waist, but then, as an afterthought, decided that the chain was meant to go under the dress, as an adornment for when I was naked, so I hiked up the skirt and slipped the chain on under it. I tried walking around in the amazingly high heels, and found it difficult at first.

Looking in the mirror, I found that the thin silk of the dress concealed nothing. My nipples poked out provocatively through the material, and when I touched them just a little, they hardened and stood out more. I fitted in the long silver ear-rings he had put out for me, attended to my make-up, and brushed my hair carefully.

I had just finished when I heard the door open, and went into the corridor to greet Don Vicente.

'Hello, Master,' I said.

'You look lovely dear,' he said, 'I'll go and get ready.'

'We're going out?'

'Yes, to some friends.'

'Oh!' I must have sounded disappointed, 'won't I be a bit………….?' I looked down at my dress.

'You'll be perfect, my dear.'

He disappeared and left me in the lounge, wandering about looking at bookshelves, but he was back in ten minutes, dressed in a tux, with a white turtle-neck dress-shirt. He threw me a fur wrap he must have had ready, which I draped around my shoulders.

'Come on then, we're off!' he said, and ushered me out and down to the porch, where Wilmore gave him the keys to his Lexus, which was waiting, engine running, at the kerb.

We went perhaps ten blocks, and pulled up outside a block similar to the one we had left, to be greeted by another black doorman. Up in the lift we went, and stopped at the tenth floor, where we were met out of the lift by a silver-haired man, ten years older than my Master, whom he introduced as Sir Marcus.

'Please, please, no titles, Vicente,' he said, as he gave me his arm and we were led through double doors into his luxurious home. The other guests were sat around the table. Marcus' partner, Zeta, was a willowy blonde of about thirty five, with aristocratic looks, wearing a fishnet top, through which rouged nipples jutted, and from one of which hung a large, dull metal ring. Another couple were introduced as Klaus, an artistic-looking type with wild hair, and his companion Lotte, who had purple, spiky hair, and piercings in so many places that could be seen that I was left wondering how many more she had that were out of sight.

We sat down with them, and were served dinner by a tall, slim, jet-black maid, wearing nothing but white baby-doll pyjamas and fluffy white mules. Sir Marcus caressed her buttocks while she was serving him, but it didn't seem to put her off the task in hand.

The conversation was like that at dinner anywhere, and, when we had finished, our host bade us all walk through into the huge split-level lounge, where he invited us to ssit around on the couches provided, whilst the maid wheeled out a huge, flat-screen television.

'I know you all hate watching holiday videos,' he said, smiling, 'but you may find this one a little different. We shot it in Florida last month.'

The maid dimmed the lights, and our attention was on the screen, as we saw that the scene was a sun-lounge full of tropical plants, with a huge couch, upon which reclined Zeta, wearing a long silk nightdress. Slowly she stood, and made a show of putting a CD into a player. A sensuous beat started, and she danced. I had to admit she moved with artistic elegance, taking advantage of every curve of her supple body, now raising the hem of her gown to show her buttocks to the camera, now pulling aside the flimsy bodice to reveal her adorned breast, and cupping it in her hand.

The beat changed, became slower, and she lowered herself gracefully onto the couch, drawing the gown up her long legs to reveal a shaven mound. Suddenly, she flung her legs wide apart, to reveal the wide pink gash of her pussy, which, like her breast, bore a ring, dangling from a pierced clitoris-hood. To emphasise her action, she put the fingers of both hands between her legs, and held her labia stretched apart, so that the dark hole of her cunt was open, available.

Now the black maid – whose name I hadn't been given – came naked on to the scene, carrying a huge double-ended rubber dildo. She pushed it straight into Zeta's waiting vagina, causing her to moan nicely. Then she manoeuvred herself into position so that she could get onto the other end of it and the camera could follow its entry into the neat contrasting pinkness of her cunt. Soon they had their long legs, black on white, entwined on the couch, making a pretty picture, as they fucked each other enthusiastically.