Claimed 3

How I miss my Master! Here it is, Saturday night, and I'm sitting here writing a story, feeling the need to rehearse a memory or two. I am completely nude, as I was always in our home. I grew to love being nude before Him.

Master wanted me always close to Him, never more than 3 feet away when we were together. He wanted me always available to his touch. It was so exhilarating. He loved me so tenderly, so wonderfully, so intensely. When we went out to dinner or a movie, I was expected to always be at His right hand, not across the table. Often, his fingers enjoyed an arousing dip in His vagina while we waited for our meal. I was never embarrassed when I was with Him. His love for me was obvious to all. Even now, my body aches for his touch. Even now ... I can close my eyes and feel his hands playfully and torturously twisting my nipples. He loved my nipples, and sometimes spent hours pulling and twisting them while reading or working. I knelt or sat by his side, and kept His breasts within easy reach.

Oh Master ... I do miss You! How easy it is to remember the first time He touched me. For months we spoke online and on the phone. Daily conversations sometimes lasting hours were the norm rather than the exception. He taught me how to stand, how to sit, how to kneel, how to please him with facial expressions, with my eyes, and, of course, with my mouth long before we ever met.

Plans were made. Reservations made. He had a room at an expensive hotel. He ordered me to come to Him, if I dared. I was to wear nothing but a skirt and blouse, nothing. He preferred the blouse to be white. He admitted He wanted to see my erect nipples through the blouse. He ordered also that my heels be at least three inches. No hose.

I came. Trembling in my shoes, I arrived. I wasn't sure why I trembled. He met me in the lobby and graciously led me to the dining room. He offered me a single white rose. I accepted. I watched His eyes observe my hardened nipples, and felt my insides explode. I had to please Him. He spoke, his Australian accent added to His mystique. I was totally smitten. He had me in the palm of his hand, and we both knew it. I was His.

He stood. Flashed His blue eyes at me, and I was compelled to follow. We went silently to the Penthouse. As soon as we had entered the room, He looked at me, or perhaps into me.

"Come," he said simply as He welcomed me into His arms. How safe and protected I felt! Even that first time, it was so. He kissed me deeply, and I nearly collapsed on the spot. I did not understand my reaction, but He did. He stood patiently, His face smiling, and commanded me then to disrobe. I know He felt my struggle, and to His credit, his face never flinched. I slowly removed my white blouse and navy business skirt, laid them on a chair nearby, then stood before this relative stranger completely naked, trembling. He said nothing for a few minutes, but allowed me to adjust to my condition. Then He spoke.

"You are completely and utterly beautiful, my slut. Come again, into Your Master's loving arms." And so I did. The first touch. His hands on my naked body. I felt my body cream immediately. Strange. I was aware, it seemed, of every inch of my skin. My skin tingled. My insides throbbed.

He ordered me to lace my fingers behind my head and part my thighs. He examined me. Before He ever touched me, my nipples puckered and hardened for Him. His fingers, like electrically charged tools, examined my body, caressing my face, my ears, my neck, my arms, my armpits ... every inch of my body, every inch. His face was stoic. This examination process took a good hour as he weighed each breast, twisted each nipple individually watching it's reply ... all the way down over my tummy to each thigh to the tip of each toe. He took His time. We each understood. I was His. I was His property. A commodity that belonged now to Him. He studied me. He observed my responses to His touch, the way my body welcomed Him.

When his examination was complete, he offered me an opportunity to use the bathroom, which I needed to do. He joined me. He watched as I urinated, and then He wiped my bottom and explained to me that it was His duty to take care of me. After wiping me, he slid a finger into my vagina to check its wetness. I was quite wet. He commanded me to undress Him. I did. He turned on the bath to an appropriate temperature and explained that I was to wash Him, then He would wash me. It was done. I was instructed to dry Him and wrap the towel around him, that I would drip dry and then position myself in a spread eagle on His bed. I obeyed. He gently laid down beside me on the bed and told me not to move, and He was going to make love to me, claiming me, body and soul as His.

He was tender and affectionate, always, and as He pushed himself gently into me, He whispered into my ear, "I will always be Your Master." We became one.

At the mention of His name, my body still responds. Within seconds I can still cum for Him with nothing but a thought. I can still feel His possession of me. Deep and strong. In many ways, He owns me still, and yet, I am strong and free and more than I ever thought because He saw it in me and drew it out. Thank You, Master!