The Mogul Ch. 01

She'd seen him on daddy's job site twelve years ago. Daddy had brought her on a business trip to New York. The boy was digging a small ditch with his Super Man action figure's head and paid no mind to her. Now Ginny lived in New York. She looked with one eye frantically into her locker mirror and the other eye coolly at his approaching figure. It was him again: Mason Tearing. A Junior now walking down the halls seemingly in slow motion, with an endless assortment of individuals to make suave gestures at. He was coming her way. She closed her locker and leaned up against it seductively only to watch him walk right past her without taking notice. Over the course of the next two days she watched him from afar, from closer, from a few seats over in three classes, from down the cafeteria line. She listened to his responses in history and joined the discussion, but no attention was paid by him to her. Finally, she awoke early one morning. "This will be the day," she thought. She groomed herself carefully, brushing her hair with more strokes than normal. She put on an especially frilly flower print dress and yellow pumps. She ate a breakfast of grapes, cheese, and tea and was out the door, determined. "It's the first week of Junior year," she thought to herself. "I want to make a positive impression on everyone," she lied to herself.

She followed him from a distance for most of that day, yellow and green flower print swaying behind her over a layer of crinoline. She carefully placed her pumps one after the other, so as not to be detected but making a distinctly rhythmic and conscientious sound. She found him finally at a moment when he wasn't surrounded by popular girls and summoned the courage to confront him with her intentions. She wanted to be his girlfriend and told him so.

"I thought you couldn't get accepted into The Academy if you still believed in boyfriends and girlfriends," he laughed. "I'm not looking for a girlfriend, I'm looking for a first concubine, sweetheart, and you haven't got the stuff." Mason condescended, pointing at Ginny up and down and turned away.

"Wait!" said Ginny. "We know each other. My dad built your house, twelve years ago. I was there."

"Oh yes. New money," he said walking towards her. "That explains the dress. Daddy got you this dress didn't he?" he asked, testing the weave of a ruffle lined sleeve on Ginny's dress. She looked away. He leaned into her and in a slow, low, even tone said, "Do you want to know what I'm looking for?" She caught his eyes. "I'm looking for a woman of her own. A woman who can stand on her own, but chooses not to... For me. I want a resilient concubine, who can handle punishment, training, recourse, and criticism. I would take the strength right out of you in one breath, whip you senseless, humiliate you publicly and everyone would know your sole purpose in life was to serve me."

Ginny listened carefully and ran off in embarrassment, not because she was horrified by what Mason had told her, but because of a familiar sensation. It began as tingling in her stomach, moving down, further down, until she could feel the wetness forming inside her and her insides quivering. She had experienced this before and it was humiliating in front of other people. His words had excited her tremendously, to the point of near orgasm and she had to run to spare herself the embarrassment of coming in front of everyone. It wasn't just the talk of the whippings that excited her, but she found the idea of an entire life in service most intoxicating. This was different from her home life. Her father did not let her mother bow down to him every day and raised Ginny not to believe in such things. Sure her parents "played" once in awhile, as they called it. But her mom and dad just had a regular marital contract, not a Master/slave contract. Her mom wasn't a concubine, but Ginny dreamed of such a life. It seemed glamorous and exciting and daddy's little girl wanted to break free and have a taste.

The next day she had renewed determination and dressed herself differently. She wanted to be a blank slate so she wore jeans with a white tank and walked up to Mason again expressing her interest in his terms in front of a crowd of people.

"Pardon me?" he asked. "I didn't hear you."

"I am sorry for running from you yesterday. I am here to present myself in agreement to your terms." Everyone in the crowd turned to look at Ginny. Then they all looked at Mason who neither flinched nor paused.

"The first guideline pertains to your dress, which is currently unacceptable at best." There were some giggles from the crowd. "You are to wear only the shortest of skirts. NONE of those ridiculous pantyhose of any variety. No panties. Only the highest of heels, and only the most miniscule of bras. Report to me for inspection tomorrow morning at seven thirty." And he turned away from her. The popular kids continued conversing as if nothing just happened but Ginny knew something monumental just occurred. Mason Tearing accepted her as an applicant to become his first concubine. "First Concubine of Mason Tearing," she said to herself. She said it over and over as she walked away from that crowd, no longer concerned about her status in comparison to them. Only her status with Mason mattered now.

Ginny didn't own any clothes that fit what Mason described and she had to go shopping after school to meet her requirements. She purchased what she best thought fit his description and met him in the school parking lot at seven thirty the next morning dressed all in blue to accentuate her continuously changing eye color. She wore a light blue halter bra with bright sea blue lace trim and a navy mini skirt. She wore dark blue ankle boots which she could barely walk in and, as an added bonus, she decorated her navel with blue rhinestones.

Mason arrived at seven thirty promptly. She spotted him walking from a distance and attempted not to stare but his physique was stunning and as she glimpsed at him from the corners of her eyes she tried to match his greatness with her own sex appeal but simply couldn't shake the insecurities stemming from being dressed the way she was. He neared, looked into her green, then brown eyes and ran his hand down the back of her head, stroking and examining her naturally orange locks as they twisted and slipped lazily in between his fingers. He ran the whole of his palms down her shoulders and arms and Ginny felt his warmth filling and melting her. He grabbed her hands and stepped back to take the sight of her in and seemed pleased.

"What is your name girl?"

"Ginny," she answered instantly, obediently.

"Ginny. I know you went shopping last night to purchase what you are wearing. I know your father and he would never have allowed you to wear such clothing in public. Did you have any trouble getting out of the house this morning?"

"No Sir, I didn't. I live in my own home on my father's property. No one saw me leave. Besides, I wore a coat," she said, proud of her resourcefulness.

"You are a very beautiful girl, Ginny. Although it pleases me to see you dressed in the manner in which I have instructed there is a problem with the way you carried out your first assignment." This statement startled Ginny. What had she done wrong, she wondered. When she got dressed this morning, Ginny felt like a goddess, like a sexual butterfly emerging from layers of childish flower prints, crinoline, bows, and ruffles. But now she began wondering just how difficult this lifestyle really was. As they walked to a nearby bench Mason spoke with Ginny about the importance of family and Ginny struggled to split her focus between the pinching in her toes and hamstrings and keeping the conversation lively but agreeable.

"Family is important, Ginny, but so will be your journey with me. If you choose to continue on this path, you cannot hide who you are. I am pleased with your efforts and would like to move forward with you but I need a commitment from you that you are willing to be my applicant publicly. That means no hiding from your father. Can you agree to that right now?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Then meet me at my car promptly after school." He kissed her decisively on the cheek, surprising them both. They went to first period, and almost met at second, but Mrs. Walker intercepted Ginny and pulled her into her office. She sat Ginny in front of her desk and smiled in that way adults do when they're trying to "connect" with young people. She offered Ginny a granola bar. Ginny said No thanks and Mrs. Walker told her she'd noticed Ginny had been dressing differently today.

"Yeah," Ginny said.

"Is there a boy?" asked Mrs. Walker in a most decidedly not girl-to-girl fashion.

"Yeah."

"Are you aware of you rights, Ginny?" asked Mrs. Walker.

"My rights?"

"Okay listen, here is a pamphlet that explains all of the social rights of a submissive woman, all of your contract options, and all of your legal rights. This is just basic information, but if you need more you can always come to me." Mrs. Walker was the last person Ginny wanted to go to, but she took the pamphlet because she thought she might need it and went to class, taking a seat next to Mason. He saw the pamphlet and smiled. Ginny shoved it in her purse. After school Mason spoke to her about the counselor. He said she was a "valuable resource" in case she ever needed anyone.

"We're going to Cherry Creek," he said, mentioning the chicest shopping center in New York. They both jumped into his car and Mason spoke to Ginny. "Your parents don't live this sort of lifestyle twenty-four-seven, do they Ginny?"

"No they don't," she replied sensing she was supposed to feel a tinge of shame in this.

"I need an assurance from you, a sign of good faith, that you are willing to embark on this lifestyle as just that, a lifestyle, not a weekend play party. I know it is unreasonable for you to pledge your undying devotion to me personally today, but I intend for you to display tokens of your commitment to me and this lifestyle today. First I expect you to pierce your nipples and your clitoral hood." Ginny quivered. "This will serve three purposes. Firstly these rings will serve as an intermediary step. They will mark ownership of a less permanent status. Secondly, I simply find them attractive. Thirdly, they will serve to sensitize you, making you more aroused and more readily available to serve me sexually." Mason paused, took a long look into Ginny's face, which appeared both restrained and contorted. "Speak your thoughts."

"I fear the piercings. I know they will be painful," she confessed.

"Yes, they will be. But in a very short period of time you will come to love them." By this point they had arrive at the piercing shop. It was very high class. Mason asked her if she was ready, and after a deep breath she was. They walked in together and the woman working the counter asked how she could help. Mason turned to Ginny, gesturing at her to initiate the process.

"I would like my nipples and clitoral hood pierced today," she said, decisively and with a hint of uncertainty. "I would like plain jewelry."

"We can do that. Jen is in in fifteen minutes and her schedule is open today. Just have a seat," said the counter girl who went about her counter business and ignored the two of them. They became engrossed in conversation the minute they sat down.

"You'll have to excuse me for asking, Mason, but I can't help but wonder if you have more in store for me this evening," said Ginny, getting comfortable with Mason and getting excited about the piercings. Mason smiled at Ginny. She wasn't the type of girl he had ever imagined himself with, but something about the way she had presented herself to him that first week of school spoke to him. It wasn't who she was now, he told himself, that turned him on, but who he could make her. It was the blankness of the slate, the openness of her understanding of him, the vastness of her lack of understanding about twenty-four-seven living. She was someone he could shape to be truly his.

"I do have more in store for you this evening. And while I won't tell you what those activities are, I will tell you that the rest of our relationship depends upon our interactions tonight, in what manner you comply with my instructions, and how you present yourself in relation to me." Ginny sat back in her chair for a moment and thought. When Jen, the piercing artist, called the two of them in, Ginny allowed Mason to get up first and walk in ahead of her.

Jen sat Mason on a stool out of the way and sat Ginny on an exam table with intimidating stirrups, the feet of which were covered in oven mits. Jen instructed Ginny to remove her bra and she did. Mason leaned back in his stool, crossing his arms and his legs, observing intently. Jen marked each nipple with a marker, one point for the entry wound, one for the exit. Then she took a special set of forceps and squeezed her nipple between them, pulling her nipple out away from her body. This alone was almost too much to bear for Ginny. After this she rolled over a small metal table with a tray of long needles on it. Ginny looked over at Mason: ankle over knee, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her, slight smile. He was enjoying this. This was the first real pleasure she was bringing him as a submissive and it was abundantly clear she must not whine.

The forceps had openings for the marked points through which the needle pressed quickly, but with a pounding force. In a second it was over. This isn't so bad, she thought, smiling at Mason, feeling warm blood drain down her left breast. Then a shooting pain began at the entry wound, gentle at first, pulsing deep into her breast with sharper and sharper stings. The next piercing was much more painful than the first, shooting straight into her chest, causing her to sweat under her arm, in her palms, between her legs. She had never experienced any sort of pain in her pleasure zones and the degree to which she experienced it now confused her. She felt deeply aroused because of the severity of sensation in her nipples but had never experience pain as pleasure before and was feeling a somewhat spiritual experience. The final piercing was the most painful, but most briefly so. Ginny walked out of the shop on an endorphin cloud like she'd never experienced.

"Was that the token of which you spoke?" asked Ginny.

"No. That was just a test," answered Mason. "The true symbol is permanent and comes tomorrow. Now," he said to change the subject. "Have you ever gotten to style you hair in an adult fashion?" Ginny looked away and seemed put down. "Hey. If you are going to put your trust in me, you have to understand I am not here to make you feel bad. Girl, do you want a grown up hairdo or what?"

"Yeah! I do!" she exclaimed.

"Then let's go!" he replied. They walked halfway across the shopping center, the sun going down, it getting chilly, Mason's arm found its way around Ginny's shoulders. Their first stop was the pet store.

"I don't understand," Ginny said. "I thought I was getting my hair done."

"And you will be. At a pet store. But you have to purchase one thing first, to assert yourself as my pet." Ginny understood. "Think: How will you buy this so everyone in the store knows you are my pet? So everyone in the pet salon knows you are my pet? Ginny strode along the isles looking for collars. There were basic ones. Studded ones. Colored ones. She had some trouble making up her mind until she got the cue from Mason to hurry and she chose an elegant and simple white leather one. She purchased a leash along with the collar and, after paying for it, in front of the cashier, she handed the leash and collar over to her Master and he affixed the collar. She handed him the lead to the leash and he took her to the pet salon where her single layered little girl locks were transformed into long tousled bedroom locks.

The last stop, he told her, for the evening, was Russel Bliss Restaurant. At Bliss, the men and women eat at tables but the women had the option to eat off the floor. Handcuffs are available at the front desk for added constraints. Walking through the mall, Ginny saw several students from school staring at her and pointing at the collar around her neck, chain dangling from it and leading to Mason Tearing's hand. Her head remained high. When they arrived at the restaurant it was evident it was not only classy but five star. Ginny felt distinctly under dressed in her bra top and it showed in her posture.

"What is it?" Mason asked her, sensing her discomfort.

"I don't feel dressed right for this place," she said shyly as they stepped into the restaurant elevator alone. He stepped very close to her, ran his fingers underneath her hair and through her scalp until he grabbed a section of hair, shaking her head distinctly and pulling the lead of her leash very close to his face. He spoke through his teeth again.

"I decided we will be going here. I knew what you were wearing. I decided it was appropriate. Please don't question my judgment without permission again," required Mason.

"Yes Sir," she said.

He sighed. "You look beautiful." As the door of the elevator opened he helped her out and led her by her leash to the hostess of the restaurant, who was dressed in a sexually overtly fashion but conservatively nonetheless, causing Ginny to long for her past, that is, long for "conservative but pretty." Somehow, seeing that look carried out in a modern way made her question the overtness of the sexuality with which she was currently dressed. Why couldn't she be the classy one? Why couldn't she be dignified? Why did she have to be such a whore? As she took her position kneeling on the floor at her Master's feet these questions circled in her mind and she was contemplative and thoughtful as he ordered her salad, locked her wrists behind her back, and tied her hair at the nape of her neck. As they waited for her food he spoke to her again.

"The next month will be a trial before you move in with me and may or may not resemble life with me in the long term. The demonstration I am looking for from you is a tattoo from the CR, the Concubine Registry. Any concubine may register there and no owner must be specified. I would like you to get your concubine bar code tattooed as a demonstration of your commitment to the twenty-four-seven lifestyle. If, after a month of trials with me, you still want to continue as my concubine, we shall sign a contract and you will move in with me. Anytime until graduation you may withdraw. After graduation, the contract will seal, and the tattoo will have my name added to it it. Is all of this clear?" Ginny nodded as the food came. Hers was delivered on the floor and proved to be particularly messy unless she ate one piece of lettuce at a time, which didn't bother Ginny. She was hardly hungry due to the endorphins she was experiencing but she ate her entire meal. She did her best all day to present herself as an ideal candidate for Mason. She agreed to everything, said yes to everything, did as asked. As he drove her home in silence he appeared pleased with her.

Stopping the car at her front gate he said, "This is where you get out."

"My house is on the other side of the property," she laughed.

"When you are home you are to be naked with the exception of your heels and your collar. You may dress and undress here," he said with a smile, expecting to hear the "Yes Sir" he'd been hearing all day.

"I'm supposed to what?!" she asked.