Rouge. He had told her to use rouge.
"Apply it with a make up brush. Only cover the aureoles of your nipples, and remember to remove the piercings first."
She stood, in front of the mirror, looking at her full heavy breasts with their nipples slightly puckered in anticipation. He favourite tale was "The Story of O", and like her, she was going to prepare herself for the man who owned her, who commanded her, who was training her to please him and, therefore, to be pleased by his use of her.
She cupped the left breast in her hand, offering it to her reflection as if proffering herself to her Master. She dipped the brush in the rouge and applied it lightly to the darker flesh around the nipple. The short hairs scratched very lightly and she felt the tug on her sex.
Since meeting Him on-line and reading His words, her body had become even more sensitive to the sexual nature of simple actions. Her own fantasies had always aroused her, especially when she walked the caves of her darker imaginings, the dungeons of her mind peopled with her body writhing, struggling, suffering, cumming. In the many cells of her dreams, men and women used her for their own pleasure, for their own amusement, for the fun of watching her cunt swell open, her juices ooze, her breath become short, and then her body and mouth explode in shameful orgasms as they whipped, rubbed, tortured and fucked her.
But with Him, even her fantasies were no longer her own private world. He had asked her, questioned her, interrogated her and extracted from her the substance and detail of her masturbation dreams. He knew the stories she told herself as she twisted her sensitive nipples, as she soaked her fingers in her dripping snatch, as she spun her magical gut wrenching candyfloss climaxes with finger, clit and hopes of submission.
But, until now, those web worked conversations had been held safely behind flat screens, mediated by typed words and brief telephone calls. She knew his desires, his urges, his need to explore her own barely defined limits. She wanted to be free, now, to fly up into her wildest imaginings, free of her vanilla husband, free of the lead weights of another's ordinariness. She was a hawk of desire, her wings spread, her pinions parted, seeking the up draught of lust and service. On line she had flown onto his wrist, accepted the hood of his authority, the collar of his service, the lure of his command.
And now, this night, she was to finally meet him face to face, to give him, in fact, what she had so often given him in talk. He was booked onto a long haul flight, and was due at her home within the next 2 hours. She felt tension, anxiety, fear, longing and need swirl through her body like streamers of fire. So far they had been able to read and understand each other as if born twins. The fact that he was over twice her age didn't worry her. She felt safe in his wisdom, covered by his understanding, protected by his self control. He seemed to be able to look deep into her secret places, and see and affirm her longings. And as he told her his plans and his own fantasies, her body had swollen with hunger to be his toy, to be the special one who made his dreams real. But sharing talk was one thing, would she be able to meet his expectations in reality?
She moved to her right breast, stroking the hardening tip with her teasing thumb, wondering if he would suckle, bite, twist and pinch her rosy buds as she longed. Again, as the brush coloured the skin, the elastic cord of her desire pulled up her cunt, catching her stomach with its contractions of sexual hunger.
It had been like this all day – everything had wound up her need another notch.
She had woken up in the morning to find her hand already buried between her legs, her subconscious slut nature hungry for feeding. Guiltily she had wrenched it away. He had made her promise not to masturbate for three days before his arrival, and now she would have willingly begged for his touch and his permission to cum.
All day, naked in her apartment, she had tidied and prepared the rooms. Clutter was to be hidden away. Furniture was to be pushed back to allow free movement. Clean sheets for the double bed and fresh towels for the washroom.
At midday, before she was due to eat a light lunch, she had lit a joss stick on the low coffee table, and knelt before it on a cushion, as he had requested of her. As the red glowing tip consumed the incense, she had consecrated and committed herself to Him. She had imagined and welcomed the weight of the leather collar and cuffs with their bright heavy chains. She had imagined and welcomed his hands caressing and spanking her gentle curves. She had imagined and welcomed the strands of his floggers and the flat hardness of the paddle striking and reddening her yielding flesh. She imagined and welcomed his stiff cock pushed into her open passive mouth, into her wet clenching pussy, into her dry resisting anus. And as she had imagined and welcomed, her body had melted and opened and longed for Him to arrive and possess her.
Later that afternoon, she had run a deep hot bath with skin cleansing oils. Her hands had stroked her body in anticipation of his, and she had whimpered in hope of fulfillment. Next, she had sat on the edge of the bath, and with cream and a razor had carefully shaved all the hair on her thighs, belly and cunt lips. Standing up and bending forward, feeling her way carefully with her fingers, she had even done what she could prepare her bottom ring so that it was smooth and welcoming for his questing fingers.
Even in the middle of her most passionate lovemaking with her ex husband she had never felt so aroused, so full of desire, so ready to be fucked until she was a wet heap on the floor.
And now, cleansed and dried, she was decorating herself for his delight, following his detailed written instructions.
This evening was to be their own private time when he finally claimed her for his own, when he collared her, marked her and used her as his grateful little fuck toy.
Tomorrow, after a day shopping, they were to go to a Kink Fest, a Fetish Ball, a D/s party where he had plans to show her off as his obedient and submissive pet.
Standing before her full length mirror, she had started by pulling her hair up into a pony tail, tugging the strands tight and setting the elastic tight close to her scalp. Her neck and face were now completely exposed.
Eye shadow and blusher were all he required for her face, and then her breasts were to be decorated with the rouge.
Both breasts were now finished. She re-inserted the bar bell piercings and gazed with wonder at the transformation. The metal jewellery glowed a deeper silver against the dark red.
Next she propped a mirror on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, pulling up her knees. She uncapped a bright red glossy lipstick, and used her fingers to part the outer lips of her vulva. For a moment she gazed on the oyster pink folds of her cunny. Then, carefully, she applied the waxy colour to the outer edge and inner flesh of the labia. When she removed her fingers, the skin fell back. Edged with crimson, the slut look advertising the gash of her pussy. Immediately afterwards, she applied the same colour to the lips of her mouth, tasting the scent of her fuck hole.
In His instructions, he had explained that by doing this, she was reinforcing the fact that for Him, there was no real difference between these two orifices. Both were available for him to inspect with his fingers. Both were ready for him to kiss with his mouth. Both were open at all times to the thrusting length of his sex. Both were to be ready, if he so desired, to receive the gift of his cream.
And lastly, a bottle of perfume sent by him from London. She dabbed some under each ear, between her breasts, in the crease of her sex, and finally, one cheek pulled apart with her free hand, directly onto the puckered rose bud of her bottom.
One final time, she stood and gazed on her reflection. At last, she looked the person she wanted to be. She looked like a submissive who was ready for her Master. She had prepared her body and her mind for him, and she knew now that she wanted him to be pleased with her, to enfold her, to work his will on her, to make her dreams come true.
Captured by the beauty she saw in the mirror, she was shocked at the sound of the phone. As always when she was expecting a call from Him, her heart beat extra fast. She longed to hear his voice, to bask in his praise, but she still found it hard to believe that he really cared for her.
"Hello my pet, I am nearly at the door to your apartment. When I get there, I am going to knock three times, and then twice. When you hear that, I want you to un-catch the door and then step back three paces and wait for me – kneeling as I have taught you. I will wait ten seconds to give you plenty of time to get settled and calm. Do you understand what I am asking?"
Somehow, his quite authoritative voice with its British accent always calmed her down. He took charge so easily, so naturally.
"Yes sir. After five knocks I am to unlatch the door, move back three paces and kneel for you. You will wait ten seconds and then enter."
"Well done pet, exactly. I will be there in less than a minute. I am so looking forward to seeing you my love. And then, we will be together at last."
As the phone clicked off, she thought she would die from the anticipation and reality of this. Just that little word of praise made her stand tall and determined to do everything to please this Man who was so happy to be her Master.
Unclothed, she waited by the door, head bowed in waiting, kneeling for her Master's arrival. There was a loud knock, three times, then a pause, and then two more. Her mouth went dry, but with no hesitation she rose to her feet, unlocked the door, stepped back three paces, and knelt again. Just that simple set of commands gave her something to hold on to, a way of doing what she was, an obedient eager submissive.
She knelt back on her heels, upright, her hands behind her. Her wrists were crossed at the small of her back. Her knees open, exposing her sex to the air, and reminding her how available she was to him. That merest flicker of a thought tightened up her nipples until they ached. She kept her head bowed, willing herself to look only at his shoes until he gave her permission to gaze upon his face. In this position, she finally reached a state of readiness, of calm, of balanced tension, like a kingfisher waiting to dive into a stream. She was His, doing His will, pleasing her Master. At this point, she wanted for nothing else.
After an eternity had passed, the door pushed open, and she watched as His shoes stopped inside the lobby and turned as He gently closed the door.
In the silence she felt his gaze drink her in.
"Well done my pet, you look beautiful and you are perfect, even better in real life than the pictures you sent me."
His happiness was clear in his voice and she couldn't help looking up at him, tears springing into her eyes.
"Come to me, my darling, let your Master hold you in His arms"
Eagerly she rose and threw herself into his open arms, shivering with delight as his clothing rubbed against her nakedness. As his arms closed around her, she tilted her head back and gave herself to him as completely as possible. Their fist kiss was gentle when it started, a wondering exploration of real lip on real lip. And then desire took over, and he held her more fiercely, driving his tongue into her, crushing her with his passion. She felt his hunger, his need, and she knew now that she was not alone in her desires. Purring like a kitten, she rubbed herself against him, curling a leg behind his, her hips bucking against him, her nipples striving to burrow through his shirt.
She was amazed at her response to him, she was acting like a bitch in heat. When his hand reached down and squeezed her behind, she practically whimpered in distress, her cunt again ready to be taken. He had called her his fuck toy, his little whore, and she had loved and hated it. But here, in his arms, she knew it was true. There was nothing she would withhold from him at this moment, or at anytime they were together. She needed Him to use her, she wanted Him to possess her, she was ready to beg on her knees for His cock in her body, stretching her, plugging her, taking over her mind until she felt his cum spurt into her and she knew He was content with her. And she loved this feeling, this feeling of complete submission to Him. It was more than wanting him to be pleased with her. She wanted Him to see and use the real her, to let her be the sex object cum rag she dreamed of.
He broke the spell by stepping back a pace and looking her full in the face.
"My sweet pet, I have dreamed of this moment for so long, I can hardly believe it's true. More than anything else, I want to take you know and make you entirely mine. Is the living room ready for us?"
Mutely, she nodded, and taking his hand, led him into the room she had tidied and prepared earlier that day.
In the middle there was enough space for them two of them to move easily around each other. To one side there was a low coffee table placed in front of a couch.
He made her stand in the middle of the room, facing him.
"Beautiful, so beautiful," he murmured.
"Now, raise your arms over your head."
Obedient to his will, she complied, relaxing into the space of submission. As her arms lifted, her breasts rose, the light reflecting in the bar bells of her piercngs.
"Now turn round slowly."
