Dawn of Dawn

I turned to Him in appeal. Patient, understanding my confusion, He merely nodded.

I suppose there has to be a first time for everything,  I thought. Sorry, Ingrid.

I reached up with my hand to take it from her. She placed its handle onto my open palm. I almost dropped it, for its handle hummed and buzzed in my hand -- within it was clearly hidden a small but powerful vibrator.

Pain and pleasure together in one,  I thought to myself. How fitting!

Alexa's laughter at my surprise echoed in my ears. When He didn't get the joke, she pulled His hand down to touch the crop. At that, He joined in the laughter.

"Dear woman, you never cease to amaze!"

Knowing how He treasured instant obedience, I could wait no longer. I resumed nibbling at Ingrid's sex with my mouth, at the same time reversed the crop in my hand. When I pressed the end of the handle into the smoothness of her mound, I could feel its demanding hum in my lips, my tongue, my nose.

The girl jerked just slightly beneath its sudden stimulation and rose imperceptibly up on her bare toes before settling back.

I wasn't sure what was expected of me, frankly. Were the two of them wanting me to merely tease the tall girl? Bring her to orgasm as quickly as possible? Did they just want an eye-pleasing visual presentation -- an erotic tableau vivant  in the garden? I hardly thought it proper to ask.

The look I had seen in Ingrid's eyes made up my mind for me. I began to move the smooth end of the vibrating handle over and around her smooth mound, pressing it harder into her flesh, bringing it ever closer to the expectant button hidden between her now-swollen labia. At the same time, I began working her harder with lips, tongue and fingers. I sucked on her inner lips, lashed her clit with my tongue, dragged her tender flesh gently with my teeth.

I knew that, had the situation been reversed, I would have been having a hard time resisting the orgasm which must now be beating on Ingrid's door. Well, I shrugged mentally to myself, that was Ingrid's  problem. Her orgasm was Alexa's to grant; I was merely here to stimulate the bound woman for as long and to whatever degree Alexa commanded. I pressed the buzzing handle deeper into the soft pad of Ingrid's mound, stroked her puffy G-spot with a fingertip.

Above me, the girl moaned, loudly this time.

"Stop!"  Alexa hissed. Her voice had changed in an instant from iron to tempered steel.

Unsure of myself, but not willing to disobey, I sat back on my feet, waited for further direction.

"I am so sorry!" Alexa said softly, obviously to Him. "She is new and, it appears, still undisciplined in her vocality. I do apologize."

There was no humour whatever in her voice. I didn't think I had done anything wrong, but the future did not look particularly pleasant for Ingrid.

"Dawn!" she commanded. "Get up!"

As I scrambled to my feet, a tiny nod from Him confirmed that He was not displeased with me. I started to take my proper station behind Him, then had second thoughts.

Instead, I knelt in front of the incensed Alexa, my head lowered. I raised both hands above my head and presented the still-humming crop to her on my open palms. I waited until I felt it lift from my hands before standing up, recovering my hat and standing behind Him.

He leaned towards her, put His hand on hers.

"You do take these things seriously, don't you?" He said. "No wonder your household shows such remarkable efficiency."

Alexa turned, recovered her Hostess smile.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Actually," He said, "I find it fascinating. Your reputation is illustrious, Alexa. I am beginning to see how you have come to deserve it."

Her smile relaxed at the compliment.

I could see tears of shame in the blonde girl's eyes as she realized the depth of her transgression. The tears were hidden as Alexa swiftly replaced the blindfold. From the look on her face, I felt sure Alexa was more than a little tempted to use the crop on the girl then and there, but she refrained, possibly not wanting to sacrifice her dignity in public.

Instead, she simply turned away and stalked off, her equanimity clearly strained. He followed her, giving her a few feet of space.

As we approached the group by the fountain, He stopped, turned to me and asked, "Ingrid's misbehaviour notwithstanding, Dawn, did you enjoy that?"

It was an extraordinary, unprecedented question. I, and my enjoyment, were His to create, to command -- or to deny. If I were enjoying myself, it was because He wished it so.

I don't think my jaw dropped, but I was very much taken aback. I struggled to maintain my composure, standing upright as He had trained me, keeping my eyes downcast as I scrambled to come up with a suitable response.

"If it pleases you, Sir, then yes."

His forefinger came to under my chin, lifted my face. His grey eyes bored into mine.

"No, Dawn. I don't want a 'proper' answer; I want the answer in your heart. Did you enjoy  that?"

I closed my eyes for just a moment, opened them.

"Yes, Sir. Yes, I did enjoy it."

"For someone with no experience or training, Dawn, I found it a remarkable thing to watch. Your manner, your control over her were both admirable."

He took my breast in one hand, squeezed it tenderly, leaned in and kissed me, deeply, firmly. Much as I wanted to take Him in my arms, clasp Him to me, tell Him of my love, He had not asked for any of that, so I merely put my entire heart into kissing Him back. So lucky was I!

My heart soared as at His words as at His caress. While generally not sparing in His praise, I could not remember receiving more sincere approval from Him. When He began walking again, I of course followed, but I felt as if my feet were barely touching the ground.

I realized that Alexa had stopped, rejoined us. I could sense her approval. She paused, turned towards me, her eyes sweeping up and down my body.

"She has surprising potential, dear," she said. "Perhaps we might discuss it more privately later on."

He laughed. "I am at your disposal, Alexa, as always."

As we arrived back at the fountain, one of the men, looking at the nearby grass tennis court, asked Alexa if she had equipment available. "Lauren," he said, indicating the woman he had brought to the party, "plays a formidable game."

Alexa gestured to one of her girls by the tent. Having knelt to receive Alexa's commands, the girl trotted away, returning shortly with four racquets and a fresh tube of tennis balls.

Lauren smiled and picked up a racquet. She kicked off her sandals and carefully rested them on the rim of her hat to secure it from any unexpected wind, lastly placing her wrist corsage in its turn inside a sandal. Now dressed solely in her collar, she stepped boldly onto the grass at the end of the court.

The girl was an Amazon. Very tall, with a magnificent figure and endless legs, her beauty was if anything emphasized by the strong muscles visible under her perfect skin. Her owner had kept her copper hair long and loose; it reached down to her substantial breasts. Between her sleek thighs however remained only a tiny landing strip. She was magnificent, an unspoken challenge to both men and women.

Stepping onto the court, released from the conventions of modesty and submissive behaviour, her manner and stance became confident, perhaps even determined. One could sense a seething sensuality within her.

Her owner had removed his jacket and was reaching for a second racquet when another man stopped him.

"You say she is a good player?" he asked.

"Very good. I found her when she was an instructor at my tennis club. I have to work very hard to best her."

"Would you be interested in a small competition?"

"Against...?"

"Karen." His head turned to indicate the brunette woman standing behind him.

"You're serious?"

"Of course."

I looked surreptitiously at Karen. In contrast to the present aggressive, almost predatory stance of the taller woman, her submissive stance was, to my eye at least, faultless. More importantly, while not quite tiny, she was much, much smaller than Lauren.

"All right," the first man smiled. "But, perhaps, something on the side to keep it interesting?"

"I wouldn't be happy taking your money..."

With that short remark, the atmosphere changed, became almost charged. I knew little enough of these men and their society, but I was pretty certain they rarely, if ever, loaned their girls. Surely that was not what was being suggested? Certainly, I thought, He would never agree to such a thing with me.

Would He?

The first man scowled. "What's your proposal?"

Out of the corner of one eye, I saw Alexa moving in towards the pair, ready to defuse whatever was coming.

"The loser spends ten minutes on the tripod, perhaps with the winner doing the... admonishment?"

The first man relaxed and I could feel the tension drain from those nearby. This, I realized, was within the norms.

The one looked at his watch. "I think we should set a time limit."

"Five-game set, best three out of five?"

"Done." The two men shook hands.

Alexa had arrived, a worried-hostess smile on her face. Seeing however that all was well, her smile became more genuine. On hearing of the match, she thought for a second, made a soft suggestion to the two men. One grinned in delight; the other broke into open laughter.

Alexa called one of her girls to her side. The woman nodded, left and soon returned holding a small box. Kneeling again, she presented it to her mistress.

The tall woman opened it, smiled brightly and held the open box out to the two men. Both leaned over to peer within it. Smiling broadly, they reached inside, their hands emerging with something I couldn't quite see.

The first owner solved the riddle by holding out his hand and shaking it. The clear sounds of a bell rang across the garden, catching the attention of anyone who had not already been watching.

"Lauren," he called. "Come here."

The redheaded woman left the court where she had been doing practice swings. Her submissive manner returned instantly in his presence; she stood calmly before him, eyes properly downcast, awaiting his command.

"Our hostess has suggested something, a custom of her house for tennis matches here."

Reaching out, he caressed first one firm breast, then the other, played with her soft flesh, teased her nipples with his fingers and thumbs.

The woman's pink nubs quickly becoming erect, the man clipped a brightly-coloured egg-sized bell on a light chain to one of them. The girl did an admirable job of maintaining her poise, but couldn't keep a small wince from her face as the chromed jaws closed on her softness. A second later, its mate was dangling a handbreadth below her other nipple.

Dismissed by her owner, Lauren made as if to return to the court. As she turned, he gave her a solid but loving slap on her bottom. Although she didn't break stride, both bells rang just a little; I could see his handprint on her buttock as she walked.

The second man turned to Karen with a second pair of bells. Commendably, I thought, the smaller girl's nipples were already erect. It took him only a few seconds to clip her bells in place. That done, his fingertips swept down the girl's jawline in a curiously tender gesture. For the first time, she raised her eyes to meet his.

"Don't lose," he commanded, serious but smiling.

The girl nodded in acknowledgement.

In comparison to her tall rival, Karen was definitely petite; while very pretty, she had small breasts and almost no hips. Her owner had kept her light brown hair fairly short; her sex was completely bare. While her demeanor was entirely acceptable, it was not hard to see that she was very much looking forward to an opportunity to be free of discipline for a short space, to exert herself to the fullest.

She too left her things on the sidelines, taking up her station at the baseline clad only in bells, collar and sunshine.

The men, followed by us, moved to the sidelines to watch the contest. Alexa stationed herself by one of the net posts. Two of her girls knelt as ball girls, one by her feet and the other across the court by the other net post. Clearly, I thought, they had practised this; no doubt they played tennis here when there were no guests. A lot of tennis might account for those lovely legs Alexa's girls all seemed to have.

Standing behind Him, I was surprised -- such a day for surprises!  -- when He turned around and smiled at me. "You enjoy tennis, Dawn," He said. "You may watch."

While not customary, this was not unprecedented. I knew then that He was happy, that I must indeed have pleased Him.

"Thank you," I said, softly. I stepped forward to stand beside Him, slipped my arm through His.

Alexa called the two owners together. One of them reached into his pocket, produced a coin and passed it to her. She spun it into the air, caught it. The taller man, Lauren's master, won the toss. Looking back and forth, he selected an end for her to play in.

It hardly mattered, I thought to myself, for the sun was to one side of the court. There wouldn't even be a need for sun visors.

The two women having taken their places, Alexa's voice range out.

"One set. Lauren serving. Ready?"

The two women nodded.

"Play."

The tall woman stared across the net at Karen, bouncing the ball on the turf first with her hand, then with the racquet. Her small opponent waited, shifting her weight back and forth between her feet.

Tossing the ball into the air, Lauren delivered a strong serve. The bells rang and swung as her body surged with the effort.

It was immediately clear that both women were superlative players. Both were fast, both were adept at anticipating the other's moves. Some of the rallies were very short, some extended. Lauren's face bore a thin smile throughout. She played an offensive strategy, never letting her opponent rest; her returns went first to one side of the court, then to the other; Karen was forced to sprint back and forth, her bells ringing almost continuously. Then one of Lauren's returns went long.

Karen walked back to behind the baseline, smiling. So smooth was her walk that her bells barely swung, made not a sound.

Lauren again bounced the ball behind the baseline, her face set with determination. Bells ringing, her serve tore into Karen's side of the court, where the girl's backhand return topped the net, landing within bounds and forcing the copper-haired goddess to charge back across the court.

It was becoming apparent that this game was lion versus leopard. Both were excellent players, but while Lauren had precision and immense power -- more I thought, than most men I had watched -- Karen was faster, surer on her feet and seemed to have just slightly better reflexes.

The two women sprinted back and forth, Lauren grunting with exertion every time she delivered one of her magnificent returns, Karen giving a shrill cry every time she swung at the ball.

And over that, over the comments of those watching, the afternoon was hung with a veritable carillon of chimes, for Alexa had also equipped the constantly-moving ball girls with bells.

As the women's breasts bounced and swayed with movement, the bells swinging from their nipples exaggerated, amplified those motions. The flailing bells began to peal louder and louder as the two players pressed each other with more power, more speed, quicker turns. From the side, even with one's eyes closed, one could have distinguished the sudden peals of a girl jumping to serve from the longer chain of notes generated by the other running to receive it.

Ripples of applause -- always polite, sometimes enthusiastic - came from the men and such of the women who had been relieved of discipline to watch.

The score see-sawed a bit, was at 30-40 when Lauren missed a shot.

"Out!" called Alexa. "Game!"

Another round of applause broke out. It had been a good match, well-played by two very different challengers.

The two switched ends, walking fairly slowly as they went. Both seemed deep in thought.

One of the ball girls, bells sounding, ran a new ball to Karen. She examined it thoughtfully, bounced it off the ground several times with her racquet before unleashing a strong serve. Lauren's return hit the net and fell back.

"15-love," announced Alexis.

Karen's second serve turned into a lengthy rally, ended again when Lauren, her boobs and bells surging with follow-through, drove her ball into the net.

"30-love."

Lauren, clearly under pressure now, bent forward, wiped perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. A ball girl appeared with a cloth, which the tall woman took gratefully.

Lauren's next return also hit the net.

"40-love."

The look on her owner's face was thunderous.

The next rally ended with Lauren in one corner and Karen depositing the ball neatly into the other.

"Game!" called Alexa.

The tall woman sagged slightly, stood back upright. She stared across the net at Karen, strode around the net to change ends. One could see that she had not anticipated such resistance from her smaller opponent. Lauren would now have to win three games in a row to avoid losing the match.

This time she wasted no time bouncing the ball. A leap, a low grunt of exertion and a clamour of bells sent the ball streaking across the net. Karen returned it but got caught by Lauren dropping the ball precisely on the other side of the court.

"15-love."

Karen, bent at the waist, swayed back and forth, waiting for the serve. Her bells hung from her breasts, swinging gently but not ringing.

Another immensely powerful, wickedly fast serve of Lauren's was returned by the small woman. After a short rally, Karen was caught in one corner of the court, barely returning the ball and trying to turn around, get back into position. Lauren, a wicked smile on her face, drove the ball into the far corner.

Applause immediately started for what seemed to be the winning stroke, but Karen spun and, bells flailing, mouth wide open, sprinted back faster than the audience could believe. A precise backhand stroke sent the ball back over the net, well away from the astonished Lauren.

"15-all." Alexa's voice was level, but the applause from around the court, which had never actually stopped, exploded at the small woman's amazing recovery. Several of the girls in the audience actually jumped up and down, clapping and squealing. Such was the general amazement at Karen's play that nobody seemed to notice, much less object.

Lauren's head turned up at the sky in frustration or astonishment. She closed her eyes, opened them again and walked back to her position, served again.

Five minutes later, Lauren's ball went wild. To give her credit, I think the expression on her face as she walked back to her position was not one of annoyance, much less concern or fear for what awaited her should she lose. Lauren, clearly, was simply unaccustomed to losing.

She fingered one of the bells for a moment, as if blaming it for her mistake.

Her next serve was a fault. Brought another ball, she closed her eyes in apparent concentration, then, leaping, drove the ball across the net at sizzling speed. Karen, with an almost surgical swing of her racquet, drove the ball behind the tall woman. Lauren barely was able to turn in time to see it pass.

"Game!" Alexa called. "Set and match!"

The two paused for a moment, wiping their faces and bodies with towels. Alexa whispered to the two owners. They nodded and the ball girls took each of the competitors a tall glass of something light and bubbly.

Karen gave a small leap of joy before approaching the net. Lauren approached politely, but her manner indicated her deflated mood. I still think it was as much at her unexpected defeat rather than her awareness of the waiting tripod.