Meeting Master

He throws his jacket over your shoulders and reaches an arm behind you, wrapping it around your waist as he leads you down the street.

Walking amid the scurrying throng of people, you feel a sense of security and protection that all but overwhelms you. Yes, your hands are firmly clamped behind your back and that should make you feel vulnerable, exposed and wary.

For some reason though, you feel the exact opposite. You feel as if you are on a pedestal high above the shoving and hustling crowd, like you are beyond reproach and out of the reach of anything that might possibly harm you.

This, you realize, is the gift of submission. This breathtaking sense of safety, security and belonging is what your soul has been crying out for.

His sense of ownership over you strengthens you, in some odd way. Submitting, is in essence, empowering. You allow him to guide you through the crowd and deep inside of the core of your soul, you revel in his Mastery over you.

Coming to stop in front of a hotel, your heart leaps into your throat again, as you realize he is leading you inside. He takes you through the lobby, stopping in the very center of the room.

He leans down to kiss you lightly on the cheek and whispers to you, "I'll take back that jacket now".

Your heart hammers what feels like a million beats per minute and you know everyone around you can see the handcuffs. You swallow and try to calm yourself and then a feeling washes over you.

A feeling that would have been unexpected a day before and that you could never hope to convey to anyone that hadn't been through such a dizzying experience. Pride.

You feel proud to belong to him, to be in his control and to know that anyone can see he has his attention centered on no one but you. That is another epiphany that washes over you with the brilliance of a million illuminating suns.

You have his complete and undivided attention. Even when he is seemingly ignoring you, he does so intentionally and with great care.

Your gift to him is simple. It is your submission and surrender. His gift to you, is even more complicated and far reaching. He gives you much more than you bestow upon him. His gift is unique and with an intoxicating affect, he gives of himself.

He reaches his arm around you once again and leads you into an elevator. As the doors close shut with the familiar "thunk", he pushes you gently back into the corner and traps you there.

He leans down to kiss you gently and whispers "look at me, little one".

You slowly lift your eyes and when you meet his that are burning into you with such intensity, you feel faint from the euphoria of it. His lips close softly onto yours and he gives you a kiss of such gentle and delicate tenderness it makes you go weak in your knees.

The elevator hums to a stop and the doors once again slide open as he leads you down the hall and comes to a halt in front of the door of the room. He spins you around with your back to the door and leans down to kiss you passionately and as his arms wrap around you he frees the handcuffs from your slightly aching wrists.

Still kissing you, he takes your arms and pins them high above your head, towards the top corners of the door. Helpless and trapped, your heart once again starts to race and then you feel the soothing caress of his hands as he massages away the ache left from the metal cuffs so long clamped onto your wrists.

"My GOD", you sigh inwardly, "this man is so much more than I ever imagined."

Contentment and peace overtake your body, mind and soul.

He reaches behind you and slowly swings the door open and then he pushes you gently into the room.

"Enter my lair, slave."

His voice seems to rumble from his chest with a near haunting echo.

Standing in the open doorway, you wait for your next instructions and are surprised not to hear the door close behind you.

His voice once again growls at you, "A sub is not allowed to wear clothing in my lair, little one, not unless I have given her permission."

"Neither is she allowed to stand in my presence."

You fall quickly to your knees and slide out of your clothes so quickly that you are awestruck when you realize you are nude on your knees in an open doorway and exposed to the world.

Your hands fly to cover yourself and just as you do so, you realize the error or your ways. His hand threads into your hair and he gives a firm jerk, tilting your head backwards, but not so rough as to cause great pain.

"Did I SAY you were allowed to hide yourself, little slavegirl?"

A tremble courses through your naked form and you quietly whisper "no Master, please forgive this girl."

He ruffles your hair and leans to gently kiss your forehead. He steps inside and allows the door to close behind him.

Darkness overtakes you, the room is still, quiet and totally dark. You feel his hands cup your face and then sigh at his gentle caress on each cheek. He slides something over your head and then a soft velvety blindfold settles onto your eyes.

"Stand, little one" his firm voice commands.

Quickly you rise to your feet and stand silently awaiting your next instruction. You hear a "click" and then sense faint bits of light probing around the edges of your blindfold. He takes you lovingly by the hand and leads you to the bed.

"Sit" is his sole order and you gracefully slide into a sitting position.

Then his hands grasp your shoulders and he forces you onto your side and rolls you onto your tummy. You are now lying facedown on the foot of the bed, positioned right on the very edge.

As your predicament settles in on you, a million thoughts go through your mind. It was completely DARK when you entered. You have no idea what KIND of room you are in and absolutely no way of knowing if there is anyone else in here with the two of you.

"What if he has an audience or is going to try to sneak someone else in on me?"

You can't stop that thought from reverberating in your mind. The unknown torments you and then you relax and let absorb the thrill of it.

"What if", gets tangled up with "who cares" in your mind.

You hear him walk to the end of the bed by your head and a gasp escapes you as you feel padded leather straps fasten onto your wrists. Then he walks to your feet and again the coolness of padded leather straps greets your anxious flesh.

Now you are exposed and nude in an unknown room with GOD knows whom or what, on top of that you are firmly bound and helpless, blindfolded and utterly alone. So many emotions toss about your mind that the turbulence is enough to make you dizzy.

Fear and excitement battle for supremacy in your chaotic mind.

Then you feel soft leather tendrils seemingly float over your skin. His voice explains to you that what you are now feeling is the beginning of a dance between souls.

You are learning the feel of leather and the intoxicating rush that can be brought on by the caress of a whip.

"This whip", he explains, "is a cat-o-ninetails, and as you can feel it has nine soft fingers of cowhide to seduce your body and mind."

He tells you how you will learn to appreciate it's kiss and it's sting as he lightly trails the tickling straps over your feet and up your calves.

He drags it up your thighs and wiggles the tails as it nestles into the crevice between your thighs and asscheeks. Then he drags it sloooooowly up and over your ass and the middle of your spine.

The soft tendrils drift off to the sides and caress your ribs and the plump edges of your breasts where they are smashed out to the side from lying on your stomach. Then the fingers float to your neck and dance on your throat and back of your neck.

Stopping when they are delicately teasing your ears and sides of your face, they slowly reverse and retrace their way back down your body. The process is repeated a few times, all of the while his gentle voice soothes and reassures you.

Now he lifts the whip and lightly slaps the straps against the soles of your feet. Then it creeps up your calves.

Slap, slap, slap.

A rhythmic caress sings to you, the music being provided by the sounds of your flesh kissing the soft leather with a popping sound. Your thighs greet the straps with the same song.

Slap, slap, Slap.

Your ass sings out in reverie, slap, slap, slap.

When the whip dances on your back and wraps around your ribs, the song raises to a crescendo as your soul joins in on the chorus.

Up and down your naked flesh, the whip dances and sings. Harder and harder, a sting developing with sensual delight, but certainly not pain.

It is a delightful, mesmerizing and soul consuming sting, but isn't what you would call painful. Then you feel his gentle lips close to kiss the little dimple at the top of the crack of your ass.

You feel his lips close there and a slight suckling as his tongue caresses the delicate spot. His hands massage and knead your quivering ass and his fingers tease along your inner thighs. Then, he very slowly unties you and rolls you onto your back, then quickly re-fastens the straps.

Now you really feel exposed and vulnerable, but it is such a delicious and intoxicating sensation that you just wallow in it. Once again, the soft and gentle voice begins to narrate the dance of your new-found lover, the whip.

The song begins with the same hushed tones of soft leather dragging gracefully and elegantly over naked flesh. The tempo builds as the whip sings it's glorious song.

Slap, slap, slap.

A melodic orchestra of feelings builds inside of you in harmony with the loving ballad being sung by the dancing whip.

When the whip kisses your pussy, the music blares so loudly inside of your head it begins to sound more like thunder.

Up your tummy, wrapping it's embrace around your ribcage and hips, the whips dances a jig and captivates your spirit. Lightly and with gentle refrain, the music dances around your breasts, over your tight and hardening nipples as it speaks with eloquent and hushed tones on the more delicate pieces of your flesh.

On the sides of your throat and over your face, soft fingers tickle and tease and then creep lower to dance with increasing vigor as the crescendo builds. The sensation of the stinging whip on your pubic region and hip is beyond anything you could have imagined.

The bliss of the soft tendrils dancing over your swollen pussy defies description.