by Maralily ©
The envelope had been delivered under the door. An ugly manila envelope contained a letter, a plane ticket and a set of instructions. Inside the manila envelope was a smaller envelope with red writing in a strong masculine scrawl, DO NOT OPEN UNTIL FURTHER INSTRUCTED. Nira had studied the envelope and letter for hours in her little apartment in San Francisco.
Nira, I know your innermost thoughts. Don't deny them. I have watched you and admired you. I wish to help you release your true desires. Allow me to be your teacher, and your master. Please, my dear, follow the instructions I have sent you. Eric
Eric? Where had she heard that name? She knew no one by that name. Except...oh, except the man who had visited the shop once or twice. She remembered him because he was quite eccentric. Eric something. He was from Europe, lived in England but had a touch of French to his voice. A wealthy businessman had visited the shop, a tiny women's boutique in Mission district. He had bought a gift for a lady friend. Could this be him? These instructions were so strange, but so exciting. She could not believe she wanted to do this. To go to England and meet a total stranger and...sex? What was she thinking?
3 days later It was raining Hell bent when the plane touched down at Heathrow. She followed instructions to the last detail. The letter had said to not bring anything with her but the clothing she had on. She wore navy blue slacks and a white sweater; her hair tucked up under a hat. Now she was to find a man in a black tuxedo, easy to notice at an airport. He would be holding a sign with her name on it. His name was Jack. She found him. She was not to speak to him, and he was not to speak to her. He made a gesture with his hand for her to follow, and he led her to a gold toned Mercedes. The drive was long, frightening and nervous. Nira was wishing she had not come here. She must be crazy. She was looking out the window as Jack drove up a long narrow driveway to a massive estate with lavish gardens. This was just outside London. This was it. She took a deep breath. The car stopped and Jack opened the door for her. He smiled to her and then drove away, leaving her in the rain on the doorstep. Her heart pounded and her thoughts strayed to the danger of what she was doing. Timidly, she knocked on the door three times. The instructions had said to knock only three times, no more, no less. She was to meet Clara, the maid, and do as Clara said.
Clara opened the door. Clara was a tall blonde woman of about 30, with classic features and long legs, a perfect contrast to Nira's dark, exotic beauty of Indian lineage. "I'm Clara. Follow me." Was all that was said. Nira followed the woman into a Victorian sitting parlor and was startled as the blonde woman handed her another envelope of instructions. Clara left the room.
Slowly, Nira opened the envelope and read the instructions.
REMOVE YOUR CLOTHING. PLACE EACH PIECE OF CLOTHING IN THE FIREPLACE. IN THE CEDAR CHEST NEAR YOU, YOU WILL FIND NEW CLOTHING. DRESS YOURSELF CAREFULLY AND CORRECTLY. IN THE CHEST YOU WILL ALSO FIND A BLINDFOLD. WEAR IT. WAIT FOR ME, STANDING. DO NOT SIT.
Something stirred inside her. She felt a mix of fear and arousal as she began to undress. She cried as she placed her clothing in the fire and heard the crisp sound of the flames eating away the fabric. The cedar chest indeed held new clothes for her. She lifted up the first garment and bit her lip. In her hand, she held an emerald green satin corset with black laces. In the cedar chest was matching panties, black garter belts and stockings, and long black satin evening gloves. Beneath all of it was a delicate blindfold. With hesitation, she slipped on the panties and stockings, attached the garters and then laced herself into the corset, it's restricting boning making it difficult to breathe correctly. Last was the blindfold. She stood in place in the parlor, her fear eating her away.
"Beautiful." A male voice made her jump with fear. This was her admirer, her master. She could not see him, only hear him. Yes, the French in the voice was there. She longed to see him. It was maddening. "You are definitely exquisite, my dear." She was too shocked to say anything. She trembled as she felt him closer to her; she could feel his breath on her forehead. And then, she felt his hands touch the thick fabric of the corset, and though she barely felt it through the stiffness of the material, it was strongly erotic the way he touched her. His hand moved over her hip and thigh, "Raise your arms." He instructed and she obeyed. The lift caused her breasts to come out of their enclosure, which was what he hoped for. Now her rather large breasts were bare on the top half and her nipples hardened against the lace, poking over the rim of the corset. "Pink cherries, so lovely..." he mused and she flinched as he pinched a hardened nipple and caressed it with his fingers. He seemed to walk away from her as he spoke, "I saw you in the shop. So pretty, so innocent, and yet, you were obviously in need. You need someone to teach you. You are a submissive, a bottom, Nira. I wish to be your master. Do you want a master, Nira? If you say no, we will stop all this at once. Only the willing, Nira. Only the willing."
Only the willing. The words comforted her, but she was longing for him, for anyone to ease the ache, to satisfy her desires. She nodded a yes to him. "No, Nira, speak to me with one word, yes or no. Understand that you will never truly be hurt, you need but say my name three times and all will end. Understand? Never fear me. I am here to pleasure you, Nira." Slowly, the word escaped her mouth, "Yes...Master." He smiled. "Good then we can continue. Nira, bend down on your hands and knees, gracefully." She did as he asked, with the hard wood floor cold on her knees. "Very well, my sweet. You are obedient. Now, arch your back so that I may see your cunt." She hesitated, and he saw right through her.
"This bothers you, doesn't it? Not the action, but the words I use. Cunt. You don't like it. It is...pornographic, and so nasty. Or is it because it excites you that you hesitate? Do you like me to speak in vulgar words to you?"
"I...yes, I like it..."
"Then obey." She arched her back. "Spread your legs open so I may see you more clearly. Ah, yes, that is nice. Such a pretty, pink pussy. I can see you glistening. You are very wet, Nira. Tell me what you want. Be honest with me, Nira."
She was crying now, but she did not know why. Her voice came out slow and distorted, "I want...I...want you to touch me..."
He came close to her again and carefully but firmly, he pushed her head to the floor with his foot so that her bottom was arched high and her pussy clearly visible, even the tiny wet pearl of her core was obvious.
"You want more than that, Nira. And you will receive it in your first lesson. You are not honest, Nira. You did not tell me what you feel. You did not obey. And you will be punished."
She heard a drawer open, and from it he took a thick handled riding crop of black leather. She trembled, not knowing what he held in his hand. Without words, he gave her a swat on the behind. She jerked a bit, and he touched the red spot on her backside with his hand, feeling its warmth. Another swat, and she felt his hand move to her wet pussy. He stroked her there. "Open yourself." He ordered her. She was confused. She hesitated and he became harsh, the elegance in his voice gone. "Reach down and spread your pussy lips with your fingers. I want to see your tight little cunt."
She shuddered at that word again, but the harshness in his voice made her even more excited. She reached down and parted her inner lips and held the position for his further instruction. "Can you be honest with me, Nira? Answer me with one word." "Yes." "Then tell me, what do you want?" "I want...to feel pleasure and pain, Master. I want you inside me...twisting me, torturing me. I want you to...to..." "Say it, Nira." "Punish me, Master. I want you to punish me. I want you to talk dirty to me and pull my hair..." She heard him laugh, the elegance returning to his cultured voice.
He swatted her with the riding crop, again and again and again, each time harder than the last and she found herself rocking on her hands and knees in anticipation of it. "Spread your legs wider...I am going to give you the punishment you want, with this riding crop, and I want you to move on it as if it were me. If you please me, I will reward you, if not, you'll take this crop until you beg to be released from it."
She felt the thick handle of the leather crop rub against her clit. She felt his fingers, the soft material of his sleeve, and then, she gasped as he plunged the handle into her pussy with little mercy. He began to push it in and out and she rocked with it, gently at first, then she remembered his warning. She could not be impaled like this for so long! She must satisfy him. She rocked more vigorously against it and jerked her hips back and forth against his hand. The pressure against her clit was maddening. She felt the wetness between her thighs and she felt the culmination of her passion swelling in her loins. She wanted him, this man she barely remembered his face. This man who now owned her sexually. The master who held this phallus-like thing in which she now abused herself on. She moaned and cried out. She shook violently and longed for him to please her with his own body. "Master please! I will go insane without you!" she could not help but cry out. Then, to her utter confusion, the crop was removed, but nothing replaced it. It was silence. She shivered and waited for some kind of reprimand for her disobedience. She heard footsteps. The scuffle of clothing. She longed for him. Then she heard his voice, "Suckle her." And to her disbelief, she felt a warm, wet mouth on her pussy, a tongue lapping her up and flickering against her clit. She wanted to cry out. Oh God! This was Carla! The woman's mouth sucked at Nira's clit, making it swell and making her come in little spasms of pleasure. Nira was pressing her hips to Clara's hungry mouth and Eric was fingering Clara's platinum blonde pussy feverishly. "Let her up." He ordered Clara. She obeyed him as well as any slave to a master. Obviously, he had trained Clara long ago. He pulled Nira to her feet and he lay on the floor, on the soft rug by the fire, his body now naked, and his organ erect and large. Clara helped to position the blindfolded Nira so that Nira was straddled on top of her master, only her back was facing him, like riding a horse backwards. Clara positioned Nira to lean back so that her arms were propping herself up and her master's cock was pushed far up inside her, yet her clit was not touched. Clara kneeled between Eric's legs and began to lick Nira's wet pussy and tickle Eric's cock as he moved in and out of her at the same time. She gave both of them simultaneous oral pleasure. Nira rode her master well and moaned as she jammed his cock into her with her thrusts. She even reached one hand down to part her pussy lips for Clara as she licked her clit. Nira thought she would never stop coming, and then her Master requested Nira to change positions, so that Nira was once again on her hands and knees. Clara was to lie down in front on Nira. Her master took no time at all to ram himself inside Nira's waiting pussy, and with a graceful push, he guided Nira's face down to Clara's spread pussy lips so that Nira could taste the other woman. Nira surprised herself. The taste of Clara turned her on more than she expected. She wished she could rip the blindfold off, but she fought the urge. Instead she lapped at the sweet, wet pussy, imagining what it must look like. Clara squirmed beneath her and with a cry as her master took the riding crop and spanked her backside with it, Nira came again in a powerful spasm, then tasted the wetness as Clara came with her. Nira felt her master's hands reach beneath her to hold her breasts as he made his last powerful thrusts into her, and with a loud groan that could have been pleasure or agony, he released inside her, paralyzed for a moment, then he drew out of her. "Stay how you are." He instructed Nira. "Clara, leave us." And Clara obeyed. Nira remained on her hands and knees, her wetness on her thighs making her painfully conscious of herself. And then he left her. She dared not move. She remained this way for close to a half-hour until he returned to her. "Nira, my sweet," his elegant voice began. "I am going to remove your blindfold, and you are going to look at me and say nothing. Then you will pick up the clothing I have laid out for you and dress yourself in them. You will pick up your plane ticket and return home without saying a word. Understood?"
She nodded her head and said, "Yes, master."
His hands carefully removed her blindfold and she stood up to her full height, gazing at him. He was more handsome than she had remembered. A tall man of over six feet, with sandy blond hair and the brightest, blue gray eyes she had ever witnessed. His body was lean and well shaped. His age, perhaps forty-five, only began to show around his eyes in the tiny, fine lines there. She breathed him in, smelled his cologne, some expensive fragrance from a French brand she could not place, but was familiar with. His clothing was designer, cashmere and silk. He had the utmost air of sophistication about him, but he said nothing to her. She longed to hear his voice, to touch him and finally, she had to touch him. She lifted herself on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek softly and he stroked her hair with the back of his hand, before she cast her eyes down and smiled.
She watched silently as he walked back up the stairs and disappeared. She dressed herself and locked the door behind her.
It was eleven months later when she received a manila envelope under her door for the second time. She ripped open the package to read its contents. Written in red ink on blue stationary were the words, "Miss me?"
Nira saw her master only once a year, and never did she say more than two words to him. Yes, Master.
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