She smiled broadly in greeting and raised her hand, waving it furiously in his direction, laughing through the peasant garb in which she had hidden herself, play acting as ever.
"Hello....it's me," she laughed.
"So many different disguises," he started.
"I cannot see clearly MiLord, so why should you?"
"Ahhh - a claim for all seasons? Or is that a shame for all reasons - given the disguise?"
"I'm back, MiLord, a little ashamed of the dullness wrought in your absence, perhaps, but more than a little excited.
"Excited?"
"Perhaps even moved," she beamed, waving the yellowing paper of his letters in his face.
"Evidently," he remarked laconically, but continued to listen to her politely. "And what moves you pray?"
"Desires as ever MiLord. I have been reading your letters out loud to my friends," she continued proudly, smiling again. " I got a very interesting response...."
"Interesting or interested?"
"Both, MiLord," she laughed. "Methinks some of their husbands may be deeply satisfied tonight!"
"Well," he said in a mildly sardonic tone,"that makes me feel all warm and fulfilled inside."
"Perhaps," she said, looking up at him with excited eyes, failing to catch the inflexion and dry wit in his voice, subsuming all thoughts to her own glee," perhaps, not as fulfilled as I was after having read them also."
She shivered and he smiled at the wanton look, redolent of a sated pet came over her. He could envisage her creeping to the ladies room to restore some order to her clothing and to control her blushes before the next eager client arrived. She looked up at him beaming with pride and he thought of her, hiding her head in her hands with excited giggles as her gentleman caller looked on helplessly.
"You impress me so much, MiLord. I wish I impressed myself, even to the tiniest fraction of the impression you make on me."
"Don't make me up to what I am not my dear," he said sternly. "And don't be so self effacing. False modesty never won fair Master."
"I was simply being truthful," she responded shyly. "Modesty is my true gift for me to apply judiciously without excess, so as not to dishonour my Master."
"There is a balance between sensitivity to one's own weaknesses and alertness to the opportunities to strengthen them," he agreed, nodding sagely at her words. She looked down and hunted round on his desk.
"What do you seek, my dear?"
She reached for a pen and paper in answer, and began to scribble his reply.
"You dizzy creature," he laughed and she giggled as she wrote. "May I offer you a drink?"
"I would prefer something without alchoholic bite. I tend to be very moved by the charms of alchoholic beverages."
"Easily persuaded?"
"Yes," she giggled. "Where do you find your words?"
"In strange and mysterious places, " he said wandering round the table to her side, deposited a grape juice in her hand and placing his hand lightly but firmly on her bottom. She quivered a little, but stayed still as he caressed her thoughtfully, imagining her as a babbling brooke, as his fingers slid under the slit opening of her skirt to slide into the moist shadows, pandering to her desires. She squirmed, wondering if he would be mastering her mysteries shortly. She let her eyes close to envision her words muffled by a fleshy manly length, sliding between her lips.
"I could enjoy this.......really," she shivered, letting her eyes stay closed for a moment, opening them briefly with a startled gasp, when his palm smacked down sharply on her wriggling bottom. She held still and he wondered whether her wriggles should be interpreted as a call for purposeful penetration and no mitigation until she subsided on the final wave of pleasurable excitement. His hand played with her underwear beneath her skirt and she sighed as her thong snapped away from the crevice of her backside, expectedly.
He dipped a questing finger between her well greased nether lips and found her ready for excited irritations. He knelt behind her and pulled her skirts from her waist, letting them slide to the floor to leave her fully exposed to his judicious eye. He stood behind her and pulled the fabric of her blouse from her belt roughly ripping the material from her skin, letting the buttons pop over the floor, in a trail of disorder, leaving her clad in just the thong and thick leather belt.
The thong was roughly pushed aside to enable his tongue to join his fingers in expanding the tightly contracted flower of her womanhood. The labial petals spread to his eager tongue, heatedly gathering her nectar like the most perspicacious bee. He savoured the sweetness of those honeyed lips, considering it perhaps unrivalled in the territory of his ambiguous writings.
She tried to think of distractions to hold herself back, wondering about cleaning her household and picking up the toys the young children in her care could have left. She wondered how she should treat them, thinking of punishing the ones that left them. Ahhhh - punishment was an idea that revolved endlessly in her head, turning over and over and over in her mind.
"Stay still wench," he muttered curtly, pulling at the thong until it slid from her hips, down her calves and over the feet that she lifted obediently at the touch of his fingers on her ankles. He left her naked and defenseless to his ravages, adding to the moment of submission by depriving her of the power of speech. With a slight of hand the thong became a most suitable gag to hold her weak protesting cries constrained. He tore at her the rough silk stockings of her disguise to make appropriate bindings to tie her in gentle yet assertive ligatures, placing her at his mercy, bent across his desk, so vulnerable and so exposed.
He turned away from her to leave her gazing at a glass case of martinets, floggers and assorted canes just within her sight. His finger pressed into her anal opening and she envisioned him plugging her curiosity in some way or another as it were - bent to a Master's whim. Then her breathe was taken away by a new resident of the case - a silver handled whip, the handle in the shape of a phallus. It was still now but it's switch indicated that in the right groove it would vibrate evenly and pleasurably.
She began to feel a little desperate, tortured exquisitely at the thought of her submissive backside soon providing a more than adequate testing ground for the new resident, that was even now being flexed in his hands. He held the whip cords on the palm of his hand, wondering if the vibration gave an extra sting as the fatal lashes curl up finely beween the submissive's outstretched thighs to whip at her coral centre.
"Do you need doing, my dear?" he enquired courteously, pulling the panty gag from her mouth..
"That could be an understatement, MiLord. I promised to never impose my needs upon you but the thought right now is overwhelmingly enticing."
"Indeed?"
"I admit my vulnerability right now," she purred. He wanted to laugh at this understatement, but wisely held his peace. He knew his piece would soon be entertained by her beguiling curves, as she bent her bottom out further through a natural desire to submit. She did not wish to destroy the whipping flow of his creativity, but wanted to feel a warmth that would take her in, restore her to her rightful place among the owned. She turned her head towards him as a look of abandonment came over her features. He paused and stood back.
"I do not prey on vulnerability pet, it is always a mistake and an abuse of prerogative," he said calmly, pulling her skirt down.
"I know, Sir, " she smiled with a certain disappointment. "This is one of the reasons that I hold you in such great respect. You are an honourable Master, one fit to hold the title."
"Thank you," he bowed. "But respect hardly satiates does it?"
He snickered as she saw he was looking back towards her with a wicked grin. There was after all nothing to stop him from mentoring and perhaps even disciplining her, while she awaited future delights and satisfaction. He seated himself opposite her and beckoned her across to him, letting her plump herself down on his lap. He reached over and squeezed her thigh, feeling contented that he had left her jade in the mountain and the pearls in the sea. He had received only that which was offered and had not plucked the brief blossoming and vulnerable flower.
He thought of her worries when he had first come across her, recollecting the myriad of anxieties that hid her true feelings like dust in the road. She had revived under tender care until the sparkle in her eye was offered, but not accepted in submission. He gave guidance to this flower to bloom gently within his clasped hands, free from interference and fear.
"I wonder if those around you realise," she looked down at him with an awed smile, " just how close they are to gentleness and Mastery."
"Do not pander to my vanity," he chided her. " I am but a collector of thoughts and a distributor of pleasures."
"The merchant of dreams, MiLord," she giggled flirtatiously and then seeing a black look flicker across his face, relapsed into respectful silence.
She closed her eyes and could picture him, singing as he travelled among the green mountains. She giggled at the thought of him frightening the horses with his raucous bellowing, but quivered in anticipation of his palpitating the occasional lesser yet rosier hued hillock.
"It all seems so simple MiLord."
"It is my dear," he agreed. "Through simplicity the Master has Mastery and in Mastery is everything.
"What did I do with that pen?" she frowned as he looked up to her beauty without envy and down to her submission with honourable intention. He let a warm hand that trace the curve of her cheek, the alignment of her throat and the palpitation of her bosom. It was a warm hand that might, in time, perhaps trace the softness of inviting hillocks, resting a palm on the soft proffered behind, before spanking her gently to chide her for her naughtiness.
"You often make me wish I were able to offer myself to you," she sighed. "I would love to be joyfully disciplined at your hand."
"As you love to split your infinitives, my dear," he sighed. "Get dressed and come with me."
She slipped her thong back on and found a silk dress, hanging over a chinese screen, as if waiting to be worn by her. She admired the cut and loved the garment at once, slipping it over her head and turning in the mirror on the far side of the screen. He watched her dress through the corner of his eye and listened to her excited murmurings and giggles as she gazed at herself in profile. He walked across to her and placed a pair of fresh silk stockings at her disposal, before turning back to the window and gazing out into the gathering evening gloom. He watched the lights going on in the distance and listened to music wafting up towards them from the more frivolous sections of the town, until he felt an arm wrap itself around his neck and a butterfly kiss, warm his cheek.
He stayed silent and pointed out the crowds that thronged by the river. With a gesture, but without uttering a word, he indicated that, although many seemed to follow the flow of the water, the river did not claim ownership over them. She realised that plants, animals, people, their pleasures and life itself depended on the river, yet the river did not own them.
"A Master cannot claim to be your lord, my dear," he said, stroking her hair. "You will take a lord for your Master, when you can truly call him or her great."
"Are you even remotely aware of the power your words hold?" she looked at him.
"I don't abuse the trust of those who hear the words of ancient Masters singing from my mouth."
"Certainly you do not abuse me," she stuttered. "You just amaze me."
He thought back to past times, remembering his own experiences of poor mastery and exploitation. They both knew full well that in order to Master one has to know the other side of the coin to be able to lure passing marauders onto the rocks of their own egos. Only thorough experience gains true knowledge and understanding of the pain and hurt that the ause of power can cause. She broke his train of thought as she sighed, thinking of the impossibility of certain relationships ever blossoming.
"Why does the past affect me this deeply?"
"You gave a part of your life and it takes time to heal and let the threads of your life knit back into completeness," he shrugged, apparently knowing all the answers to her questions. Yet she knew he was recalling a distant aching from a past that could only be subsumed to the present. He took her by the hand and led her to the doorway, showing her the bright lights and dims lanterns of sundry dens of iniquity in the city.
"You will find a modicum of sympathy in those less sublimated climes, my dear.".
"A modicum, Sir?"she said regretfully, feeling the audience draw to a close.
"A modicum if you stroke their egos and hairier parts."
"Take the rough with the smooth, you mean, MiLord?" she giggled.
"If such is your desire, " he smiled back. "Take what you wish, my dear, bedevil and confuse them with your wrigglings, but come back to me when you are ready to learn more."
"Take my return as promised already, MiLord"
"As promised?" he mused, looking vaguely puzzled for the first time..
"As promised as my enjoyment of your eulogies, MiLord."
"Without an audience, there would be no eulogy, my dear. Remember in your modesty, my gentle bloom, that without your listening, the declaiming would be like sounding trumpets and clashing cymbals on a barren plain."
She laughed at the picture conjured by his words in her head. She turned away from his doorstep without looking back, walking slowly. Her delicate footsteps took her towards the material delights of the city that lay stretched out before her. There she would refresh her body, entice compliments and let them wash over her libidinous nature, now that she could see clearly again in the darkness, as promised.
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