In the Beginning

The living room is stunning, a great room about 45’ x 40’ with vaulted ceiling, huge triangular windows, a massive stone fireplace, open beams at the single story level and a magnificent antler chandelier. She looks at him with admiration, all eyes, just beginning to remember how much they really did have in common and he tosses her into a big, overstuffed chair done in RL plaid, pulling up the footstool in front of her smile gone, seriousness shrouding his sexy features.

“I want you as my slave, Veronica, nothing less. I know this whole concept is new to you and very much against societies decorum…but…I think, deep down, something in this appeals to you, yes?” his eyes watch hers intently, the sudden shine of wary apprehension at his mood, the almost comic chuckle that bubbles up in disbelief at the word slave. He continues to watch her as she lets his words wash over her, testing them out, staring deep into his eyes before offering a timid nod.

“You need to understand, Veri, for me, this is not a game.” A small frown line appears between his eyebrows as he sits there reading her expression. “We will take it slowly, my love, step by exquisite step, building your responses to me, mine to you. You will always be able to say no, Veri, always.”

She stared at him in bewilderment, wondering what he meant, what step by step, all the while a frisson of entitlement, a sense of right, burning through her veins.

“OK,” she blushes, the word sounding so pathetic, so simple in light of the curiosity burning through her mind.

“Yes,” the satisfaction in that simple word, the comprehension and pride in his eyes soothe and titillate at the same

time. “You will address me as Sir, Veri. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand…S.sir,” her soft stutter over the syllable makes him smile.

“You will address me as I tell you and you will agree to obey each instruction I give you, as quickly, gracefully and sensuously as you are able,” his eyes, black with the arousal, peruse her face. “And I remember, clearly, in detail, just how sensual you can be Veronica...intimately. Unbutton your jeans, Veri.”

The demand surprises her, her fingers lighting slowly on the snap, trembling as she does so. She watches his eyes quirk, misunderstanding the look of expectation there, her fingers falling to the zip as his stop them.

“Always address me, Veronica, when I speak to you.”

“Yes, Sir,” the humor of the situation tickles her funny bone, coloring her response and she sees a fleeting shine of humor in his eyes before the intensity is back in his gaze.

“Now…slowly, sensually…unzip your jeans and remove them without getting off the chair,” there is a challenge in his words, his calm serenity mocking the hard beat of her heart.

She reaches down, lowering the zip, meaning to tuck her feet beneath her and looks helplessly at the boots on her feet.

“May I…may I remove my boots, Stosh..umm..Sir?” her voice reflects her concern, the seriousness in her eyes making his dance with humor. Saying nothing, his strong hands cup her heel, tugging lightly at the boot until it gives way, holding out his hands for the other.

“Thank you.” She tacks on the requisite sir as the muscle in his jaw tightens, feeling her own tension relax as he does.

Tucking her feet beneath her in a sensual curl, she rises to her knees, her eyebrow quirked at his as if to say, “I’m still on the chair”. With his nod she shimmies the denim over her hips, watching his eyes follow the thin, sheer black silk of her thong as it emerges from the jeans, playing the denim down lower and lower until it pools at her knees. Slowly, one hand braced against the hard muscles of his shoulder, she rises, lifting one small foot then the other from the jeans before turning around and bending down to pick them up, folding them into a neat pile on the top of the chair, the full, round cheeks of her bottom feeling the warmth of his breath.

“Beautifully done, Veri…now put your hands back on the back of the chair, arch your back and SHOW ME your ass.” The cadence to the demand, the stress on “show me” has her quivering as she does so.

The warmth of his big, callused hands start at her ankles, his thumbs caressing the arch of her foot, encircling her ankle in a tight grip before his fingers wander upward. Gently, his fingertips play over her calves and she feels the muscles quiver beneath them. Her soft gasp brings a small chuckle as they play over the sensitive skin at the backs of her knees and his lips follow, placing a sensual kiss behind each.

“You like that, Veri?”

“Yes!”

He turns the “yes” to a squeal and then the appropriate “Yes, Sir” with a fast, hard slap of his palm on her right cheek, its impact ringing around the big vaulted room, imprinting itself on her flesh and her senses in a manner she’d never known.

“I’ve always loved the smell of you, Veronica, aroused and ready, your cunt aching for me.” His lips slide upward from her knees, his palms cupping the full cheeks of her ass even as she stiffens, reacting to the harsh, coarse language he’s chosen.

“Drop your panties for me, Veri…SHOW ME that hot, aching cunt of yours. DO IT,” his voice, calm, serene and liquid in its sensuality deepens on the commands, sending their nuances shuddering through her.

“Yes, Sir,” her fingers find the band of her panties, sliding beneath it at her hips, pulling upward on the material with a saucy jerk feeling it slide between the crack of her ass and pull lightly against the swell of her throbbing clit. His chuckle of amusement at her impudence warms her and she slides the sheer black fabric erotically down, over the full curves of her hips and the taut slope of her bottom letting them pool around her feet, the heat of his fingers burning against their soles as he removes them.

“Bring your knees down. Rest them on the arms of the chair and push your breasts into the back of the chair, Veronica. Leave your hands above, gripping the top.” The sensual shudder his words bring flows visually through her, his mouth planting a soft kiss on one cheek as she lowers herself uncertainly to do as he’s asked.

With her left knee resting on the arm of the chair his hands grip her shoulders, stopping her movement and his deft fingers remove her tank top, releasing the catch of her bra in a movement so well rehearsed it takes her breath away, her breasts bouncing free of their confinement. His palm, at her back, pressing her into the cool material of the chair; her nipples, achingly hard and sensitive savaged by the brush of the course fabric drawing a moan of sheer delight from her.

Reaching down his grip clenches on the soft flesh of her left thigh, just above the knee, holding it firmly to the arm of the chair, the other following suit on her right knee. She hesitates, unbalanced and shy, as he guides the right knee toward the other arm, a position that will leave her sex spread wide to the cool air and his heated gaze.

“Delicious tramp, don’t fight me. DO IT!” It’s a growl, a sensually erotic growl and she hastens to obey.

Trembling, her knees spread as wide as they would go, she leans into the chair, her cheeks coloring in shame and…and a building excitement that leaves her shaken. She wants, so badly, to see his expression but her modesty won’t permit it. His fingers loosen on her thighs, two fingertips of each hand trailing teasingly upward over the tense muscles, taunting her aching center with their silent promise. His lips press a soft kiss to the lower curve of her right cheek her face flaming with renewed color as she hears him breathe in deeply.

“Yes, Veri, I love the smell of your aroused cunt. And you are aroused aren’t you? No need to answer, I can see the sweet slickness pooling around your lips. In moments, Veri, my love, you’ll be, quite literally, dripping for me, won’t you?”

Mortification sends the color from her face down over the proud peaks of her breasts as she realizes how right he is, feeling the wetness of her sex sliding viscously between the swollen folds of her labia, pooling there. His fingertips travel further yet, caressing the delicate skin just below her sex. Her muscles clench in response sending the liquid heat cascading over the temporary dam of her lips to spill over his fingers and slide down her thighs accompanied by a purely male satisfied laughter.

“Ask me, Veronica!” the command, demanding and harsh, bounces around the room.

“Please, Stosh…touch me, please.”

She stands trembling before him hearing the soft rustle of his jeans, the tiny clink of metal against metal and her confusion clears as she pictures his fingers unbuckling his belt. The ache of hunger in her belly expands, picturing the full thrust of him even as her ears pick up the soft slide leather through denim, wanting to feel him deep inside and moaning at the thought.

The whistle of leather and the harsh crack of its impact against the soft curve of her right cheek steals her breath away. She stiffens in outrage, her hands pushing her body away from the chair, her head spinning around as his palms pin her there, his white teeth, grinning, inches from her startled eyes.

“Do you understand why, Veri?” quiet, deadly quiet, his breath tickles her cheek as her mute eyes look up at him in anguish, watching as she shakes her head “no”. “How do you address me, sweet, hungry tramp?”

The leather of the belt caresses lightly the sore cheek before dipping between her thighs and pressing against her most intimate flesh.

“Sir…oh please touch me.” The ache of the stripe, hot against her cheek sublimates to pure pleasure with the caress of the leather.

“Not…quite…yet, Veri…do you remember when I asked that question earlier?” her eyes open wide with understanding, quivering with the thought of her own cheeky response, his laughter a mix of pride, assurance and sympathy as he watches her reaction. “Yes, my love. I want you to push away from the chair, your beautiful ass pressed backwards. Five strokes, Veronica…and each you will count out loud. Do you understand?” His mouth next to her ear, his teeth clamped lightly to her ear lobe, worrying that tender bit of flesh affectionately.

“Yes, Sir…I understand.”

Pressing her palms against the deep plush of the chairs back she slides her knees back a little, ankles angling in toward her buttocks, back arches presenting her ass for his…discipline…

“One, Sir.” The cry is drawn raggedly from her with the first descent of the belt, the harsh crack resounding in her ears as he brings it down hard against her left cheek. His chuckle brings color to her other cheeks as he tells her the “sir” is unnecessary for the count. Two follows slowly, no movement giving away the moment of its descent and then three, four and five following one on top of the other, stealing her breath and bringing the soft shimmer of tears to her eyes with their brutal sting.

“Jesus,” a grunt, husky and harsh at the same time and she hears the descent of his zipper and the rustle of fabric behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, her lower lip held quivering between her teeth, her tearful gaze is greeted by the rampant release of his magnificent erection, throbbing in his hands. A small smile crosses her lips at the look of sheer relief in his expression as he pulls free of the confining garments. His eyes rise, meeting hers, hungry and black with sensual need.

“Ask me!” harshly commanding, his eyes hold hers.

“Please Sir, touch me? Stroke me Stosh, stroke my …c.cunt, please Sir?” her voice quavers with desire and shame, the course language tripping over her tongue.

“Sweet tramp. Sweet, dripping, aching tramp,” it comes out as a growl, his fingers releasing his jutting member and delving between her thighs with a shocking suddenness, his fingers coated in her heat in seconds, sliding up and down her snatch in a primitive, earthy rhythm that has her gasping.

His fingertips pause at the entrance to her sex, stroking the flexing muscles there, taunting teasing her to new heights of hunger before sliding forwards and slicking over her swollen, throbbing clit. Then backwards, pausing and circling her entrance and then all the way back, fingertips slicking sweet juices over that tiny, mist sensitive pucker, his laughter gentle as she tenses. Then forwards again, her breathing ragged with need as he slides a fingertip, just barely, into her hungry cunt, pulling out just as quickly to pull forward, stroking the hood of her clit away from that sensitive nub, stilling, holding her unsheathed in his hand.

“Oh God Stosh, don’t stop…please…don’t stop.” She can feel her juices slicking his entire hand, dripping down her thighs as her belly trembles with the heat that flows in waves outwards down to her sex, up to her engorged, painfully hardened nipples.

His other hand is just as quickly wetted when he slides it next to the first, pulling the hood of her clit back between the thumb and forefinger while the three fingers of the first hand prod, caress, circle the throbbing nub now unsheathed, her hips writhing backwards, thrusting against the slow rhythm he’s building. She feels it, the sweet heat coalescing in liquid waves of climax deep within and just as quickly he stops.

“No, no…you can’t,” her knees slip off the chair, her body curling up around itself as his arms scoop her up. Strong hands grip her wrists, preventing her own hands from delving between her wet thighs and completing the job as he rocks her against him, cooing, soothing stroking her hair from her face.

“Ah, but I can…we’re not done talking, Veri.” His eyes, serious again, judge her gasps, releasing her wrists and arranging her in a sitting position on the edge of the chair, pressing her knees wide apart and watching the flush of color in her cheeks.

“Later, Veronica, when you understand more fully the delights and the consequences of our actions together, I will ask you to sign a contract that states the terms of your training and our agreements and understandings. We will talk, in detail, about these subjects, before you sign your contract.

We will also continue to address issues of concern and care as they come up. I will always encourage you to communicate your likes, dislikes, concerns and limits. Although I will bring you pain at times, I will never, ever hurt you, Veri…ever…. I will never cross further over your limits than you are willing to go, and you are always able to ask to stop. We will find, between us, a new level of pleasure and communication, Veri…one that I have yet to experience even. Believe me and unlike anything you have known previously…” Dark eyebrows quirk, an intimate fire burning in his dark eyes as his fingers trace her lips, inquiring, wordlessly, if she understands.

“We will agree on these things together, sweet tramp,” the endearment falling more easily on her ears is followed with a gentle nip to the corner of her mouth, “and I will never push you farther than I think you can go, my love. You will have safe words, words that we agree on that tell me when you’re scared, when you’re at your limit, and when you want to stop. I will always respect those, as I will always respect you.”

Slowly, the words sink into her passion-steeped mind, the new concepts wrapping themselves around her senses like a caress, beckoning her further.

“And may I think about this, or must I decide immediately?” Her saucy tone, despite the husky, heaving pants of her breath, raises his eyebrows, that amused smile tugging at the corners of his sensuous mouth.

“I would wonder if you are really the girl I know, if you agreed immediately.” His voice softens, eyes dancing. “We will make our decisions slowly, together, beloved tramp. Meanwhile….tonight…..” A broad, knowing smile wreathes his face, the dimple in his left cheek appearing briefly.

“Yes….” I whisper huskily. “Please Sir…what about tonight?”

“There’s my girl….living for the moment. Nice to know some things don’t change.” His laughter plays lightly over her ears as he touches his temple ruefully, a very few silver highlights shining there. “Tonight, we will play, little one. You will call me Sir, each and every time you address me. I will not restrict your conversation, because I want to know everything you’re feeling, everything you need from me…. I will love you, Veronica, like you’ve only ever dreamed….”

“Oh please….” Her body quivers with flame of wanton abandon deep in her belly, her voice reverberating with that need.

His grip, hard on her shoulders, draws her up directly in front of him. Looking up into his face, seeing the disapproval there, she look at him helplessly, his lips inches from her own.

“You will address me as what, girl?”

“Oh please, Sir?” the impish tone does not hide the echo of adoration that rings in her voice, a primeval word from another time that seems to suit him perfectly. Briefly, she wonders what happened to the Stosh she’d known in school, the one that was embarrassed by the attention he drew from men and women alike.

“Hmmm…..saucy bitch.” He smiled to soften what would become a loving endearment in the months to come, his teeth grazing her lower lip, biting lightly and pulling away. “Stand and pose for me Veri, put those thoughts of old times to good use and find a position you know I will like.”

His perception and intuition has always been superb and she pauses, considering old times and her options with a cheeky grin.

“I trust that is a thoughtful smile while you consider how best to please me?” His tone reprimanding yet soft and warm tingles through her.

Slowly, each movement sensually languorous she strides slowly around the room, calculating, remembering intimate moments. She pauses in front of the fireplace, reaching one delicate hand upward, watching his eyes take in the subtle rise of her breasts, their peaks hard as buttons. She lowers it, shaking her head, clucking to herself and glancing to see the small grin on his lips from the corner of her eye as she pads back towards the sofa and the long, wooden table in front of it.

“You’re in beautiful shape, little one.” He catches her halfway across the room, his eyes and fingers caressing her long legs, shapely hips and sweet, smooth snatch before waving a hand to continue.

A little disgruntled by his nonchalance, she pauses before the table, her back to him, lithe thighs and arched back coyly displayed, remembering his passion for the sweet curves of her haunches and ass. She crawls, a sensual slither, onto the low table, it’s smooth mellow tones a perfect background for her own golden presence.

She remembers a pose from a comic book, a breathtakingly sensual European comic book that she and LeeAnne had oohed and aahed over for weeks, a woman, kneeling in a seductive pose for the man in front of her. Closing her eyes in concentration she mimics what she remembers, tiny ankles tucked firmly beneath the taut muscles of her thighs, her shoulders back, breasts proud and full before her, nipples hard, achingly so. She opens her eyes, tilting her head back just a bit so that her long blonde hair cascades in a tempting chaos over her shoulders and meets his gaze.

Like fire, it burns through her, his sheer masculine arousal blazing from him in every way possible. Anyone else would have looked silly, his booted feet at shoulder width, his jeans low and undone over his hips the proud rear of his rampant erection jutting boldly before him. Stunned, she drops her eyes, reeling from their impact, hunger, greedy, rapacious flooding her senses.

“Never hide yourself from me, Veri…in any way.” So completely overwhelmed by the sensuality of his look she didn’t even hear his stride crossing the room, his thumb settling gently on her chin, tilting her gaze back to his. “Be proud of yourself, Veri…be very very proud. I know I am.”

The cadence, the tone and the husky, barely restrained ardor in his voice and his caress send ripples of hunger flowing through her like a current. His mouth descends, pressing a caressing kiss to the slope of one breast before sucking its peak hungrily into his mouth, teeth grazing its surface in an aching blaze of sensation.