A True Master

Note-- This story is a big departure in style and pace from the "Julie" parts of the 48 Hours series. It features overwhelming domination from the first two words. You will not find torture or extremes here. You will find intimidating, arousing psychological domination.

"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

-Carole

"Wake up."

Getting no response, the woman tapped Marcella on the cheek several times. "I need you to sit up. Now."

Marcella began to stir, her eyes opening, blinking. "Wha..." She felt a sharp sting on her thigh. "Owww!"

"Silence! You will not speak! Sit up!" Another sting.

"Owww! Stop that! Who are you?" Three sharp stings "Ahhh! Please!" She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, looking up at her tormentor, a woman. "What is..." Three stings on her calf. Tears.

"You..." -swat- "will..." -swat- "not..." -swat- "speak..." -swat-swat-swat- "Do you understand? Nod."

Marcella frantically nodded, tears flying off her face. A dreadful knot of fear began forming in her stomach. What is happening? Is this a dream? I was in the conf...

"You will only speak when asked a question and you will address me as 'My Mistress.' Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes!" She cried out as three more sharp stings blossomed red on the top of her left thigh. As the pain radiated, she dimly realized that her only covering was her bra and panties. "Ahh, Yes, uh, My Mistress!"

"Stand up! Let me see what fate has brought us." As she stood, her tormentor moved her fingers in a gesture that Marcella understood. She moved to take off her bra. As it fell away, she hunched her shoulders. "Are you proud of your body? Straighten up! Hands behind you!" Her face reddening, she complied. Another gesture. "What else do you have?"

She moved her fingers to the waistband and slowly pushed downward, hesitating, stalling, inch by inch. Swat! Her left breast felt a bee sting. "Oww!" The pink panties hit the floor.

"Now, we can begin to get acquainted. First, walk back and forth for me. Sway your hips a bit. Walk like powerful men are watching you." She began walking in a stiff manner. "Stop!" Mistress bent down to pick up a pair of shoes. "Put these back on and try again."

Still in a daze, Marcella walked to the wall and back to the bed. "That was better, but not nearly what I am looking for. Your turn was terrible, or perhaps I should say, boring. You need to be a fast learner. There is a mirror on the door. Go to it now." The mirror reflected a red-faced, tearful woman wearing only high heels. "You are to turn and count the stripes I have laid on your body. Every last one."

There were red marks on her calves, her thighs, and her backside. Her lips moved as she strained to find each one. After a bit, she turned back toward the bed. "Come to me. Did you find them all?"

"Yes, My Mistress."

"How many did you see?"

"My Mistress, I found 15."

"Place your hands on top of your head." She touched the switch to Marcella's left breast. "Did you count this one?"

"Ummm, no, My Mistress!"

"So, you have failed in this simple task?"

"Owww!" A burst of pain exploded in her right breast. "Ahhhh!"

"Think carefully before you speak. How many do you have now?"

In tears, she replied, "Ah, I-I have 17, M-my Mistress!"

"Would you like 17 more, right now?"

""NO, PLEASE, My Mistress! I'm trying! What is happening to me?"

~~~~~~

The Burj Al Arab was enormous. Fifty stories of abject luxury in a building that resembled a giant sailboat. Marcella looked forward to a business trip infused with pleasure. Her company had fully underwritten her expenses for her trip to Dubai. Three days of meetings to present her proposal and four days of swimming, hot tubs, water skiing, and perhaps, some personal time with one of the French architects or engineers who were competing for this project. French men knew their way around a woman's body.

By the third day, though she held her own in the negotiations against three competitors and the government minister, all men, Marcella felt the stares, the little flirts, and the knowing looks that were even more frequent than usual. She knew from long experience that, in the business world, many men were sexist pigs in thousand-dollar suits. Women in the high-stakes business arena had to operate by a set of contradictory rules. If you wore a skirt to the meeting, you hoped that the table would not be glass-topped, or every man would try to get a glimpse. But if you wore a suit, maybe it was because you had bad legs, or "cankles." High heels at every moment -- mandatory.

If you wore a blouse with even an inch of your little valley showing, the Third Law of the Universe kicked in:

1. The Gravitational Force

2. The Electromagnetic Force

3. The Cleavage Force that drew men's eyes ever downward.

But if you buttoned up, you were thought of as a prude. If you were blonde and big-breasted, you already had two strikes against being taken seriously. But flat-chested plain Jaynes had to try to appear more feminine. If you smiled and warmly made eye contact, you were flirting. But if you didn't, you were a pushover with low self-esteem.

If you dared to interrupt a man, you were a bitch. But if you made your points quietly and timorously, you were a wimp. And by the end of the first meeting, every man from age 19 to 90 had completely undressed you in his mind, speculating on your nipple size and personal shaving habits.

Marcella had always traversed the male swamp as best she could. She also knew that many powerful men had dark secrets and fantasies. Her male colleagues always stayed at certain hotels around the world depending on the supply of high-quality working girls. One VP of her firm confessed once that, to deal with stress, he visited a dominatrix who spanked him. She declined his invitation to join in.

But Marcella had a secret of her own. Dreams. Dark dreams with one theme: abduction and enslavement to powerful men. Taken from her bed, screaming. Snatched off a dark street. Marched off an elevator at knifepoint. She always woke up well on the way to a self-induced orgasm.

At the close of the third day, at least none of the apes was drooling. On day one, she wrote them off as romantic possibilities. The most arrogant of the three men, Andre, glared and even snickered when she spoke. He tried to distract and agitate at every turn, but by the third day, she felt good about her prospects.

As the group rose to exit, the minister pushed her folder across the table with a clipped note, asking her to go and refresh herself and come back to the conference room, as he wanted to speak further about her proposal, but to wait until the others were gone. Knowing this could only be good news, Marcella paced in the restroom for five long minutes. Peeking out at an empty hall, she returned to the conference room.

The snacks and refreshments from the day were gone. Only a fresh water bottle and a glass for each of the two remained. "My superiors like your approach to this project very much, but they have instructed me to negotiate the cost down by 15%. Let us scrutinize each part with, as you might say, a sharp pencil."

Several pages in, she realized, He isn't looking for cuts. He wants discounts and freebies. I can't give away the store.

Several times, when they would reach agreement on some minor issue, his face would brighten and he would raise his glass for a toast. Marcella could hardly refuse. After an hour, her eyelids began to droop.

Much later, after dark, a man rolled in a large hotel laundry cart. He picked her up, noticing a pool of drool on the table. Marcella folded neatly into the cart. The minister followed him out, tossing her proposal in the rubbish bin.

~~~~~

"NO, PLEASE, My Mistress! I'm trying! What is happening to me?"

"Kneel." The stern woman sat in a chair. "First, my name is Lia. You will now address me as My Mistress Lia. Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Mistress Lia!"

"Second, when you speak, you will show the utmost respect and restraint. Is that clear?"

"Yes, My Mistress Lia."

"And last, are you familiar with the custom in many countries that regard the feet as the lowest, disfavored part of the body?"

"Yes, M-my Mistress Lia. I have read that."

"Place your left cheek on my sandal and hold my ankle. This will show you your place in my world." Marcella bent down as instructed, wearing only her heels. "Separate your knees a bit." The switch handle had a row of rounded ridges. Lia ran it down her back, dipping into the mysterious beyond.

"Ahh! P-please!"

As she continued to saw the switch to and fro, she said, "You may ask me a respectful question."

"Ahhh, Why am.... I ... Umm, here, My... Ahhh! Missstress Lia?"

Lia pulled the switch up, stopping Marcella's squirming. "Excellent question. You are here because we noticed you. You were in the boarding line at JFK when our man first saw you. You were assessed at each succeeding step. You have promise. You have the correct body for our purposes. I work for a powerful Sheik you will know only as Master. When we see something we want, we take it. Do you have another question?" She resumed her torment with the thin rod.

"Oh! Ahhh.... W-what is to become of me-ee, My Mistress Lee.. ahh?"

"Another good question, and your last for now. I'm sure you are highly intelligent, so you will carefully reflect on my response. Your future here depends largely on your acceptance of your situation. I will train you to the best of -- YOUR ability --. We are in a private hotel for special clients of the Kingdom.

"For example, one of the architects from the meeting today is staying here, since we accepted his company's proposal." Marcella took a deep breath, picturing the loathsome Andre. "Your project has probably been shredded by now. Do not speak, but show your understanding by nodding."

As the enormity of this insult sank in, Marcella could only gasp, tearfully rubbing her cheek across the leather sandal. "The basement of this building has a laundry room. I've not been there but I'm told it's hot and it involves endless work. Would you like to be assigned to the laundry?" Lia felt a "no" on her foot.

"There are many other job openings, but after we spend a few days together, I will show you the penthouse, as you westerners call it. Would you like that?" Another helpless, tearful rub.

"Since you are already down there, we will start your training now before I feed you. Gently remove my sandals." One by one, Lia felt the cooling air around her feet. "Now, take this one in your hands and begin worship. You will bathe my feet with your tongue for the next 15 minutes. I expect increasing passion and fervor on every surface. If you fully understand, begin."

For a short moment, Marcella tried to fathom the horrible turn of her life, but the number 17 interrupted. Stripes. The first taste on the top of the arch -- her own tears. She started with little kitten-laps, but the light sway of the switch over her back prompted ice cream laps. For long minutes she licked around the heel and ankles. When the wand started tickling her left breast, she knew to move on to the sole. Back to kitten-licks at first. But the day's sweat and salt awaited.

A light tap on her breast. Lia whispered, "Passion."

Marcella started kissing and slavering with increased abandon. Despite the taste -- a blend of vinegar and musty wine -- she lovingly covered the area. She felt her Mistress' scepter moving past her arm. It settled between her toes.

Her tongue entered the first crevice, accompanied by sighs and sobs. Lia began a light tapping on her breast, prompting fresh enthusiasm. In five minutes, she French-kissed four unimaginable spaces.

"Stop. Kneel up. Your devotion was acceptable. I will offer you the honor of bathing my right foot at another time. One small matter before you are fed. Kneel in front of the mirror." For the second time, the mirror reflected a red-faced, stricken girl.

"Your posture is sloppy. You will learn to kneel without being told, whenever you encounter a superior, man or woman. Who is your superior in our private little world?"

"Umm, everyone, My Mistress Lia?"

"Correct. Now look at yourself. You are hunched over. You are closed. You are kneeling before your true Master. How can you show him you are eager and open for him?"

Marcella straightened her back and tried different hand and arm placements, ending with hands clasped at her back.

"Open your legs to your Master." She waited. Marcella moved her knees a short distance. "No. I will show you." Lia grabbed her hair, pulling Marcella onto her back. "Point your legs straight up." As high heels reached toward the ceiling -- "Now split your legs widely!" Lia gave her light taps on her center as she spoke: "When you kneel in submission, you..." -tap- "are inviting him..." -tap-tap- "begging him, to put you on your back..." -tap-tap-tap- "Now, get back up and show me what you have learned."

Marcella scrambled back to face the mirror, opening her thighs widely. "Place your hands behind your neck and pull your elbows back.

"Now, what do you see in the mirror?"

"Ummm, I see a woman with her knees apart and her elbows..."

"Why would a lady do something so disgraceful in front of a man?"

"I-I, umm, I'm inviting him to umm, put me on m-my back? My..."

"Yes, and if he snaps his fingers, or nods, what will you do?"

Tears. "I-I will..."

Snap! "Show me! Now!" Marcella fell backwards and threw her legs apart. Tears. Abject blubbering. "Good! Time to eat. Follow me. Crawl."

Seated at a table, Lia glanced down at the cowering girl. "Position!" Instant obedience. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, My Mistress Lia."

"Good, while you are with me, I will feed you by hand. Tilt your head back and open your mouth like a baby bird." Lia slipped a piece of lamb onto her tongue. "Between bites, you will at least attempt a smile." Over the delicious meal of lamb, broccoli, and tea, Marcella's forced smile improved, but still resembled a caricature.

"Improve your position." Marcella straightened her posture and pulled her elbows back. "If I should suddenly snap my fingers, would you remember what to do?"

The humiliating image flashed into her mind. "Y-yes, My M-mistress Lia!"

"Excellent. I am going to name you. Tell me about your education."

"My Mistress Lia, I graduated from Rice University with a degree in Civil Engineering..."

"That is impressive. Rice is a top university and Engineering is a difficult major. Hmmm. I shall name you after your alma mater. You are Owlet. What is your name?"

"Umm, my name is Ow-owlet, My Mistress Lia?"

"That is correct. Do you think you will be doing any Civil Engineering here, little Owlet?"

Tears. "I-I guess not, My Mistress..."

"Also correct, though you will need all of your intelligence. It might seem so at first, but we are not training robots. You will learn to incorporate your personality and creativity into your service. If you fail, there is always the laundry." Snap!

In seconds, Owlet looked up at Lia through her open knees. "Good, now roll over and follow me. You are in great need of scrubbing and grooming."

"Use the commode and get in the shower."

Lia stepped in behind her and soaped up both of their bodies. "Take this razor. Shave your legs and underarms. Then shave mine." In a few moments, Owlet knelt down to complete her task, coming face to face with Lia's bald pussy.

"Do you like it? You are going to lose your beard shortly. Have you ever mowed the lawn?"

"Um, no, My Mistress Lia."

"Fold down this little seat and put your feet on the sides of the tub. I have become an expert at this." Lia spread gel cream and began scraping. As she moved lips here and there to gain access, she would move a fingernail across sensitive areas. "Hold still, little bird. I haven't nicked any lady petals in a long time.

"Pull your knees up to your chest. I need to get way down here." Shaving around her bottom hole produced a pleasant tickle that didn't outweigh the embarrassment. Lia finished by rinsing thoroughly with the pulsing shower head. Owlet squirmed. "There. All done."

As her charge dried off with a towel, Lia thought, The Plan is going well. She is utterly cowed. The Plan, called Shock and Awe, was Lia's own. Completely overwhelm the captive on the first day. Light pain and strict obedience. Ambush and conquer, leaving no unoccupied moment, no chance for rebellion.

The woman Master had named Dove had served well in the first trial and advanced to the top floor in four weeks. Two others were probably cleaning commodes or bleaching bedsheets. Time for True Confessions.

Owlet crawled after her mistress into a bare room, save for a chair. Lia said nothing. Quickly, her thrall spread and stretched herself on the floor. Silence. After a moment, Owlet lovingly caressed and kissed each bare foot.

"Position. Your obedience and respect are outstanding, little bird."

"Thank..."

"Why?"

"Uh, pardon, My Mistress Lia?"

"I want to know why you have come so far in this short time. The other girls I have trained reacted with rebellion at first, and resentment for days. Yet here you are in the most submissive posture. I want to know what is different about you.

"Think carefully. I expect you to open your soul to me. You are surely not kneeling like this because of your experience at Rice University, are you?"

With her hands behind her head, Owlet could not wipe away the tears, flowing freely. "I-I don't..."

"Yes, you do! Think harder. You know the answer, don't you?"

"Umm, I uh, have bad dreams sometimes."

"Oh? Tell me about one. In detail. Lay your head on my foot." Lia felt the teardrops as she again reached down with the grooved switch, beginning the infernal tickle.

"Ahhh! M-men come into my mmm-mm room and carry me out! Uh... I try to scream but they have a gag on my mouth. Then, ahhh, one of them puts his hand between myyy legs."

"And?"

"Then I-I wake up, and it's my own ahhh, hand."

"I can fill in the rest. And you call that a bad dream?"

"Um, yesss, My Mist..."

"Would you like me to finish, little bird?" Owlet, lost in lust, could only pant and nod. "Move closer." Lia began a rapid movement of the grooved rod, soon inducing a gasping orgasm.

Lia pulled Owlet into her lap. "Lay your head on my shoulder, little bird. I am your protector. I will make sure no harm comes to you in this place." Planting small kisses on Owlet's face and neck, "Do you understand?" A still trembling, tired girl sighed. Bedtime.

"Position." The command slowly brought Owlet out of a deep sleep. "I know you were exhausted and I let you sleep in, but this is your first full day of training and conditioning. Obey me and greet me." Owlet spread herself on the carpet and rendered a reverent kiss to each of her protector's feet.

Lia handed her a gym outfit and they walked to an exercise room. "I am pleased with your body, but I want you to tone up and lose two Kilograms. Can you do this for me?"

"Yes, My Mistress Lia. I will." They started side by side on ellipticals, moving to bench presses and treadmills. After 30 minutes of strenuous movement, Owlet slumped over the rail, her lungs heaving. Lia, seemingly unfazed, led her to the showers.

For Owlet, feeling another woman soap up every square inch of her body was a pleasurable, almost hedonistic experience. She returned the favor, ending with mutual washing of hair. Owlet took a chance and kissed her mistress full on the mouth. Lia returned it with a full embrace under the hot cascade.