Ninety Days Ch. 02

Copyright Heidi Michelle 2008

Slowly, she awakens, drifting through the stages of slumber as if swimming up from the bottom of a pond, its murky depths replaced by the feel of soft cotton and warm down coddling her bruised and battered body.

"It will change you, Cyn. As much as My presence has changed your life, this experience will change you." Michael's words from what felt now to be years ago, play back softly in her mind.

As the previous evenings events dance through her imagination, she feels a moment of utter desolation. She'd underestimated her mentor, yet again. In the beginning, nearly eighteen months ago when they'd met, he'd patiently explained to her that...things would be different. He represented a lifestyle she knew nothing about and He would willingly share that, but slowly, in bits and pieces, permitting her to acclimate herself – and to pull back, if she felt the need.

Soft laughter spills from her lips at the memory. She'd wanted him with an intensity that'd left her breathless, from the first moment His dark eyes had perused her and absolutely from the moment he'd opened His mouth. His confidence and surety, the sense of strength and ability that emanated from Him, coupled with a wry sense of humor, a very sharp intellect and understanding of human nature, and an endlessly generous nature left her rather wide eyed in awe and desperately attracted to him. There'd been no "pulling back" on her part, she'd wanted to experience it all, immediately, and had found herself frustrated with the slow pace of each new experience.

Using her own sexual hunger as the carrot and withholding any contact as the whip, He'd led her, step by step, down the paths of His very structured lifestyle and she'd followed eagerly, often chafing at the restrictions He put before her.

He'd started with a course on manners. She laughs again, remembering her reaction to that, the indignance and belligerence that followed and his patience in waiting. In the end, she'd given in, learning the ritual responses that, initially, had made her so uncomfortable and self conscious, but had come, with time, to represent her respect for Him. Slowly, she'd earned her first level of trust, appreciation, and pride from Him. Gentle kisses had become longer, stronger, more demanding, leaving her aching with longing when he inevitably broke them off.

Next, He'd taught her the positions that her submission to His will would take and again, the unfamiliarity of such a thing left her feeling awkward and uncertain. She learned them, from the position of "display", where her body is offered up in willing submission, to "nadu", a kneel of ultimate respect and willing, complicit surrender, she'd learned them all. But it wasn't until Michael had taken her to a private facility, to sit behind screens and watch as slaves and Master's interacted in what, for them, was a normal social situation, did she understand. And her life had changed. The beauty of each move, the admiration and respect that glowed in each slave before her, the lithe sensuality of every single move, each to reflect the girls individuality and complete, total surrender. Something inside of her ...moved....her perceptions of herself and her Master changing subtly, her belly glowing with the heat of that change. And his eyes, so dark, had narrowed on her face and body, taking in every emotion that flitted across her features. Suddenly, the glow of those slaves on the floor – was hers. His gaze, so darkly intent, flared with recognition and a pride that shook her to her very foundations.

It had been later that night, for the first time, that he'd undressed her.

~~~

"Display yourself for Me, Cyn." The gentle, slow cadence of His speech, filled with a power that taunts her, tumbles through her senses like a force of nature. Their kisses had never led to anything more, before this, and it takes her a moment to understand the command. Slowly, she backs off, taking a step away from him, her mind trembling with a contrast of emotions.

Dropping her eyes from His, looking anywhere but at Him, she stands there, shivering, and slowly spreads her legs...just enough so that His hand may rest there comfortably if he so deems. Heat sweeps through her as her mind grasps the reality of the instructions that she's learned from Him. His gift to her is her gift to him, complete and total surrender. Her weight is spread to the balls of her feet, giving her the supple ability to flow into whatever the next pose might be and her hands find their way backward, her wrists crossing in the small of her back. And finally, she raises her head, keeping her eyes lowered, a blush of heat coloring her cheeks.

"Yes, Cyn," Satisfaction tempered by amusement suffuse His tone as He takes one stride toward her, tipping her chin upward and meeting her gaze with his own, holding it. His fingers drift downward, to the straps of the dress at her shoulders, sliding them gently down. The zip in back gives way to His nimble fingers and the slide of heated silk over cool flesh leaves her breathless.

"Beautiful." To this day, that is still her favorite phrase of His. Replete with satisfaction, pride and the thrill of sensual alertness, it flows over her soul like champagne, heightening senses to an exquisite degree.

Her bra and panties follow, His hands playing havoc as they touch, caress and tease her flesh. For the next hour He runs her through the gamut of positions and for the first time, they flow from her with a natural sensuality that staggers her. From Display, to Bara , then down to a crawl, back to a kneel of respect and then at the last, the Karta stance, kneeling on the floor. She is panting, every nerve alive with not only sensual hunger but the joy of presenting herself to Him...and the utter bliss of His reciprocal appreciation.

He has moved the footstool and she is kneeling on the cold slate, her thighs spread almost impossibly wide, in front of His favorite chair. Her bottom nearly brushes the leather as she leans forward, pressing her breasts to the floor in front of her, long silken locks of hair falling over shoulder and outstretched arms, her heart pounding, her belly pulsing with need as she hears Him, behind her, settle into his chair.

Moments of silence pass, her mind racing, unable to see Him. She can smell her arousal in the air between them, feeling the throb of her sex and the slow, inevitable slide of moisture over swollen lips and eager thighs. Moments turn to minutes, her gaze drifting to the golden slate between her thighs and the inevitable first slick slide of arousal that darkens its surface. Color blooms hot and heavy on her cheeks.

His chuckle, deep and full of pleasure, strokes her ears, her flesh, even as His fingers run over the wet slick of her inner thighs.

"You are the most beautiful thing in my world, Cyn," He purrs, the underlying passion in His words a heady narcotic for her already heightened senses. His fingers play lightly around her sex, feather touches

"Michael," it is a plea, adoring and demanding at the same time. She lifts her head, needing to see Him and finds him sitting forward in His chair, jeans unzipped, hard arousal clenched gently in one fist, fingers playing lightly over a foreskin glistening with beaded excitement. His gaze turns cold, eyes narrowed, the hand between her legs pulling away.

The sound of flesh on flesh, as His palm comes down hard on the full rounded curve of one buttock is shocking, as hot and painful as the look in his eyes is cold.

"Return to your pose, pet, and never, ever anticipate me. This...this is for me."

Her eyes fill, stung by the totality of His displeasure and stunned by her own wanton reaction to the slap. Pleasure courses through her veins like a drug, the throb of the handprint on her ass an ephemeral and ghostly caress. She returns to the pose as He's directed.

As if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred, his fingers resume their play, tracing the reddened and swelling outline of his touch before dropping lower to tease her lips apart and bask in the wet heat that adorns them. She can hear the gentle slurp of her flesh clinging wetly to his and also the faint susurration of his other hand, playing with himself and bites back a soft whimper of frustration. Slowly, his fingers move upward, bathing that smaller hole in gentle lubrication and bringing the breath to still in her throat. Then, reversing their course, they delve down, finding the nub of her pleasure and fondles her slowly, feeling for her reaction.

"Does that feel good, pet? Do you like that?" His beautiful voice, velvet and chocolate, is almost cold, as if He's taking notes, recording an experiment.

"Yes, Michael..I..I like that." Confusion and bewilderment color her voice uncertain and he laughs, a short, wry laugh.

"What do you wish to be for me, Cyn?" His question is posed in the same voice, like a curious onlooker.

"...I wish only to be yours, Michael?" The pause at the beginning and the question mark at the end do not please Him and His demeanor changes rapidly.

"For months I have spent my time with you," his fingers slide upward, pressing into the heart of her sex with one slow, full thrust and she feels Him move forward in His chair. The other hand came around her hip, descending on her clit and with several hard, sure strokes has her panting and mewling, struggling to hold her pose, slipping on the very edge of climax. "And still you question. What do you wish to be for me, Cyn?!"

"Anything! Everything!" The response is wrung from her without volition and she is stunned at the truth and the power behind them.

"I believe you." The simple statement is full of acceptance. "Stop. Be still." His hands have stopped and she blushes to realize her hips buck against them, teetering so very close she has a hard time complying.

"You have a beautiful body, little pet, one I look forward to knowing every inch of when the time is right." His hands grip her hips, stilling them completely. She feels his knees spread to each side of her and then feels him position himself, the engorged head of his cock sliding slowly over the dripping lips of her pussy, nuzzling between them, sliding the length of her slit. "I ache for you Cyn...every day." He brings himself upward until his glans rests against that smallest, puckered hole and presses, gently, creating an ache that competes with the one in her heart. "But...for now, it is time for you to go to bed. Goodnight little pet."

She'd felt it coming, knew it and in her mind rebelled against it hard, but something had changed inside her today. She no longer just wanted...she needed...to be part of this...to belong to Him, to be owned, to be Mastered. For the briefest of seconds, she hung her head, breathing hard. Then she raises herself from the floor, resting on muscle weary haunches, her back straight and proud as she rises to her feet.

"Yes, Michael." The words were hard to say against the knot in her throat and tears slipp lightly down her cheeks. "Master?"

"Yes Cyn?" She hadn't missed the swift intake of breath behind her, or the pause before His words and her body thrills to each.

"May I kiss You goodnight?" listening to herself, she sounds like she's seven.

"Come, little pet." His words were gentle with an underlying throb that was...different, somehow.

Most men, she mused, would look silly sitting in a chair, holding themselves like that. But He..He looks like a King with His scepter. For a moment a giggle threatens to burst from her lips and the illicit thought about just what kind of a kiss floats through her mind for just a second before she banishes it to the darker depths of her mind. She turns, slowly, and pads sensually back to His chair, lowering herself in Nadu that for the first time, feels...right. She lifts her eyes to His, biting her lip, her expression one of apology and contrition. "I'm sorry, Master...for...not understanding."

For one endless moment, she gazes into the depth of those black eyes, watching the pupils first dilate then contract to pinpoints. His hands reach out, first to her shoulders, then her hips and he lifts her into his lap, burying his hands deeply into the roots of her hair. Slowly, he pulls her face backwards, away, staring at her as if He's never seen her before.

"Wrap your legs around my hips, pet." The words are husky, almost forced as he drops his lips to the tops of her breasts, nipping, sucking and biting as she complies, his hands guiding her hips closer, snugging her sex against the base of his cock so she can feel the twitch and throb of Him against her. Then, his hands lift yet again, burrowing into her hair, bringing her face to His.

"Don't move unless I tell you, don't say a word ...beyond your whimpers of pleasure and...do not cum until I say you may. Do you understand?"

"Yes Master." For a moment her world blurs, arousal coursing through her like she'd never imagined, pounding at her temples, a steady rhythm in her nipples, belly and sex...even to the arches of her feet she could feel her need drown her senses.

"Ohhh, little slut. I LIKE that."

She turns emerald eyes, hazy glazy with the moment, up to the gaze above her, reveling in the power His words hold for her. Greedy wanton hunger coursing through her feels meshed in a cage created of her need to please Him and she shudders with the power of it.

"Yes." It was a grunt, almost a groan, purely male and so loaded with hunger she feels like she is drowning. His lips descend on hers, his hands on her nipples and she barely recognizes the moans that spill from between his kisses as her own.

When he drops his mouth back to her breasts her perceptions are slow to catch up, so overwhelming the degree of sublimation she has found. Each lick, each nibble, every bite is like heaven on every nerve in her body

"Brace your hands on my knees, gorgeous slut and open your thighs wide, wide, wide."

Somehow she does, arching backwards, presenting herself fully for Him and gasps as he slides the full, rampant length of his cock over the slit between her legs. Not inside her, just over, nudging her clit with each thrust, slapping her sex roughly with each stroke until her cries have become the soft harsh pant of blind oblivion. In her head all she can think of is please, please, oh please.

"I have waited so....fucking....long...to taste you." His words are a growl, his hands under her ass to lift her higher, under her hips to stabilize her, her legs twining around shoulders.

"Wider...open wider for me, pet." It's almost a groan as she does, locking her ankles to the far sides of the chair, his breath playing over sensitive skin.

He leans in and kisses her, his lips against the apex of her sex, his tongue darting beneath pleasure swollen lips to caress the hard, tight bud beneath. Her back arches and his grip tightens on her hips, fingers digging in cruelly with warning. She stills, panting, every muscle tense and shuddering.

"Good. Good. Girl."

Each syllable is followed by a gentle nuzzle of her clit that turns into a slow rhythmic lapping. She clenches, riding the wave and then cries out wordlessly. He stops, breath panting against her intimate flesh, letting her regain some control and then drops lower, lapping at the entrance to her sex, with satisfied little murmurs, probing with his tongue until again, a rhythm is started.

Without thought, her hips try to match it and she gasps as the first joint of one large, masculine thumb slips knuckle deep, into that smaller, tighter hole. The first flash of hot pain dulls the growing clamor within her briefly, before that too slips into a rhythm and she feels herself loosening, clenching around him in time to his cadence.

When she wonders if she can take anymore, when moans have become cries and her cries have become lower, animalistic grunts, he stops, altogether, resting her ass on His chest.

"The mechanics of a woman's orgasm fascinate me," the normal velvet and chocolate tones have given way to a harsher, smokier whiskey timbre as his fingers play lightly with her clit, slapping and flicking at random moments. "The process a woman goes through...sublimating herself to my wishes...mesmerizes me. And you, little pet, little wanton slut...absolutely bewitch me."

She feels tears, again, against her eyelashes and her moan of adoration brings his attention back to her face.

"You may speak, if you wish." Humor dances like an imp within that dark gaze.

"I ....I adore You, Michael...Master...and I...I NEED you, so badly." It's not a shy pledge but a most earnest plea and brings a smile to his handsome face.

"You need, little pet...absolutely. But there are other ways to fulfill that need. We're not quite there, yet. But...I would leave something of Me in you tonight, just a little something..." her gaze follows His fingers down as they circle his shaft, pulling upward, pinching the foreskin at the base of the head and pulling it back, stroking upward, pulling back. Her breath catches and then holds tight as his other hand slips between the cheeks of her ass, playing with that small, puckered hole. "Just...a little...bit"

She opens her mouth to plead with him and his index finger covers her lips briefly before falling to her nipples to tug and pinch, his face set in serious lines.

"I know how very close you are, Cyn...and I have made up my mind on what I want. Think of all the things that you've learned of me over these months...and then gauge your actions by those..."

Leaning over the side of his chair, he pulls the footstool around front and beckons her to kneel, facing away from him.

"Now...slip backward little slut, so that your ass is in my lap and your ankles are over the arms of the chair....thighs wide, wide, wide for my touch. Do it!"

The command slipps inside her head like a familiar caress as she follows His instructions, her heart racing as his fingers find her clit and her rhythm almost instantly. He brings her up and then slows...then up yet higher and stops altogether, letting her pant out her stress and need before starting in again. Eight times...ten...she's lost count and reality long before then when he shifts his stance, nuzzling her shoulder and lifting her a little higher to settle her knees beneath her.

"This is very, very important, Cyn. I want your knees wide on either side of mine and I want you to lean forward." He slipps a hand between her thigh and belly as she did so, settling over her clit. "Now...are you listening?"

She whimpers, nodding emphatically, her body so tense, so eager it hurt.

"You may come when I tell you to come. Can you do that?" He slips two long fingers into her sex and she cries out her "Yes", leaving no doubt to her response. "Yessss, good girl, I believe you can. Afterward, little slut, I want you to hold very still, on your hands and knees. I want to feel each quiver from you, little tramp...every tremble. If...and it doesn't always happen...but if you feel yourself ...needing...more. I want you to say my name. Only, little slut, if you're ready to cum again. Do you understand?"

She nods, her sex dripping it's enthusiasm onto his thighs, her breasts swollen and tender with excitement as his fingers begin to play. He slides two fingers over her clit and brings her so quickly to the top that she gasps and then cries out when he quits. Again, his fingers start and as she approaches the top they slow, keeping her steady just before the leap.

"Yes...oh yes... you gorgeous... fucking ...slut." An animalistic growl comes from behind her and she feels him move, reposition himself slightly and then feels the tip, the full, bulbous, swollen head of him press against that tender, tiny hole and just shudders, her mind slipping somewhere it's never been, some primal level of pleasure so deep it's trancelike. His fingers resume and she feels the slow, burning bloom of heat in her belly expand, sending tremors of raw heat outward and upward, bringing the dull throb of her nipples and the swollen ache of her breasts into the crescendo. She sobs, moaning with pleasure.