Modesty

Two moons... that is how unreal all this seems to me.

What the candles illuminate is a mirror. A large square one in a heavy frame, apparently taken down from the wall and set on the floor, leaning at a slight tilt against the dresser.

And what the mirror illuminates is me.

It takes my breath away. Seeing myself kneeling in surrender, naked and humbled, and knowing it is, after all, real.

I see the image of someone who is like me but not me. And she is so desirable a prize!

Behind me, I see Master has placed a third candle on the bench at the foot of the bed behind me, and a fourth on the bedstand. After the initial jar of sudden illumination has faded in my eyes, the light in the room closes comfortably in on itself, and what remains is golden and intimate.

You stand behind me now, one hand reaching down almost absently to rest on my shoulder, and you stare into the reflection of my eyes. They tell you everything about me, even more than I know myself. I can't say how long our gazes are locked... until dawn, for all I know... I only know, the next thing that happens, you are collaring me.

You circle my throat with the white leather, join it in back. I dip my chin as I feel your fingers behind my neck working the lacings. It is unspeakably heady, mesmerizing. The rush of what I feel, every detail of it.

The supple, sultry hide molds to my skin like a comfort. Each and every pinprick of sensitivity in all my hidden places, one by one, flares and hums. My skin and belly are alive with erotic heat. I feel the honey of my rising lust trickle thickly down my inner thigh.

My breath quickens as the lacings snuggle up in back, tighten, and I feel the bliss mounting. I try and calm my breathing, because the moment is so delicate, tender, elegant, I want it to proceed in complete silence.

When you are done, what I see in the mirror enthralls me. The collar. The snow-white leather posture-band encircles my neck and gently but forcibly lifts my chin... against my skin, so dusky now in this gentle light... your hands on my shoulders, so fair, cuffed in pressed white cotton.

Finally, you take the leash from my teeth, press the clip to the delicate silver ring in front, and *click* it secure, the tiny noise resounding like thunder in my belly.

Completing our exchange. Binding us together.

I am collared now, a slave. It looks and feels so right. Not only the dreamy sight of myself in the mirror, but that of you standing over me, so tall, holding my leash... inspecting me.

You are inspecting me, yes, as you promised. But I see you doing it. I see you taking complete possession of me with your eyes.

I see a collared, leashed, controlled, brown, owned slave. Property. Property of my white Master.

Using the leash, not exactly tugging but leaving it slack, you guide me with flicks of the lead on the ring at my throat. You coax me to turn to the side while you come around a bit. Glancing to the side, I see what this does. In my view of the mirror, we are in profile, both equally available to my eyes. Yes. Thank you, Master.

Looking up from my demurely kneeling posture. I love you towering above me. Feeling again the heady, wet thrill of it, being naked before you with you in your fine clothes.

But but not for long, I quickly realize.

Guiding me by my shoulders, your hands push me down toward your feet, where I am to remove your shoes and socks.

I enjoy prostrating myself lower still while I serve you. I sneak a sideways peek at the mirror, thrilling myself with how I look with my face poised over the lowest part of you. I unlace the right shoe, help you slide it off, followed by the sock, then repeat this on the left --

... Should I have kissed and licked your shoes first, Master?

... Your Suckslut would, out of fear of the belt. Your Punishment-Toy would, in a bid for the mercy Master hinted may come, if his boots are shiny and clean by the time she is done.

... I would do that for you, Master. I would lick mud and filth from your shoes, if that would serve or please you.

-- As I finish with your feet, I see your shirt fall to the carpet, mildly disappointed that you didn't allow me to see to that. Kneeling up, at eye-level I see your belt buckle, already lightly undone. I reach for it, and --

... Like your Suckslut would -- right, Sir? -- in the alley. You have rudely ordered her to open your pants herself, and down on her bare, scraped knees, she's too scared to say no.

... Like your Punishment-Toy would. Except her whip-striped limbs are cuffed and chained and her agonized kneeling is enforced by shackles bolted into the rough wood-plank floor. She struggles with the heavy, unwieldy fetters to unbuckle, unzip, free Master's straining, angry cock. Knowing what comes next for her mouth and throat is going to be more punishment...

... I want to learn to endure that for you, Sir.

-- and I open the belt and take your pants and drawers down in one swoop, then help you step out of them.

You are naked along with me now. Settling back on my haunches, I see your beautiful white cock, which is not rigid but thickened by your sense of authority, by your anticipation of how you will use it on me.

Almost lunging, my mouth goes forward. At first, only to kiss your pendulous shaft, then briefly suckling the tip, flicking it and collecting your moisture with my tongue. You eagerness grows between my lips.

So that, when I part them wide and you fill my mouth, your cock is thick, fully engorged, demanding.

My hands move to grab your shaft. But you take my wrists and place them behind me, folded at mid-back. I know this. Clasping my elbows with opposite hands, I tense, thrusting my breasts forward, full and high, the downy hairs of your thighs caressing the hard cherry-pits of my nipples.

I kneel up to be fully level with the cock that invades my mouth. I do not move with you, but hold my head steady, taking what you give me and no more. Disciplined.

I glance at the mirror. Me kneeling and serving your cock, arms behind in self-restraint, hands denied access to you. My belly erupts in white-hot fire. My juices stream down my thighs.

Then I look up into your eyes. You look down on me, your lips parted but faintly smiling, eyes hard. Our eyes meeting volcanically in between. Yours are telling me, Show me my power with your eyes, slave, and show me your powerlessness.

I show you. Looking up desperately, my eyes are wet with tears, wide with surrender, full of a self-doubting dread that the mouth you own might not please you enough --

... Like your Suckslut, eyes terrified, framed in purple mascara that her tears have smeared down her cheeks. Like your Punishment-Toy, eyes begging for mercy, restrained on her knees, mouth forced open by some metal contraption, helpless to deny his invasion of her mouth and throat.

... Ohhhhh, Master, in this space I live in now, this moment, I AM both of those women. Those sluts, those toys, those captive pleasures. I will do this for you!

-- your hands prod me and your cock withdraws. My lips chase after it.

But before I have time even to feel my frustration, I am pushed and turned by those hands, a blur, finding myself back down on the carpet, facing the mirror.

My upper body is low, elbows splayed, face close to the carpet. Ass high.

You on your knees, behind and above me. Both hands firmly gripping my flanks.

Your thumbs squeeze. My ass cheeks spread.

You inspect my treasures with hungry eyes, my slick smooth sweating pussy and the puckered bud above it. What you have plundered, and now appraise.

Seeing this in the mirror, from low on the floor, you above me, I melt and moan.

My pussy. Denied for, what, almost two weeks? At your command. The way you used to control me with words from afar. But that was before you had your slave, your slave in the flesh, gripped in your in your own, flesh and blood hands.

The tip of your cock prods at the my craving slit. Both your hands still gripping my hips, I can feel your cock is making a sensual inspection all on its own. My breath is heaving sobs now, ripped out of me.

You reach down and press between my shoulder blades, forcing my face into the carpet, making my back arch in a taut, graceful curve.

I splay my arms out and forward. My hands, palms up.

And you plunge inside me.

Oh God! My God! My Master! You are taming my pussy, your pussy. Your cunt. Pushing up from my knees, I lurch back to receive you --

But you deny me that.

Your hands control the hips of the body you own. You hold me at bay, I am shuddering and whimpering, I am thwarted.

You slowly withdraw. Tease, tickle, and return. Toying with your toy --

... Your whore wouldn't receive this tenderness, Master, would she? Your bondage-slave? This would have been preceded by the cane.

... Ohhh, I want the cane, Master. I want to learn it from you. But for now, Master, please please please, just give me the rod!

-- Now your hand grips your own shaft as you feed your cock in, more demanding, exacting, starting to punish.

Your other hand -- holding the leash, but not using it to control me -- grips my hip and urges my upper body up and back towards you.

Both your hands seize my hips. Mine fly back and lock onto your wrists.

Next, with my taut body jutting forward diagonally like a fixture springing from your loins -- you, all of you, impale me.

In the mirror, my mouth is a perfect "O." My eyes are black, drifting in dreamy miasma, wide and awash with tears. My breasts dangle and quiver and my tilted torso shakes. My belly undulates and my hips buck, and --

... And in the mirror, I see a woman who is a stranger. Yet deeply familiar. Defeated, she is a honey-gold war-prize for her Celtic conqueror. A slave collared and leashed, controlled, fully owned.

... In the mirror, too, I see a woman from whom all the fear, shame, longing, frustration, pride and will, resistance and disobedience... self-doubt and modesty... is ebbing and draining away. Sloughing off her beautiful skin. Evaporating. Forever.

... I see her in all her shining, golden fullness and perfection. Conquered. Giving herself over in submission to another. Still, never so free.

-- Then in the mirror, I see a parting glance, one of trust and acceptance, void of regret... from the eyes of the woman I used to be.

And the next moment, I see her explode.

End.