She'd seen him on daddy's job site twelve years ago. Daddy had brought her on a business trip to New York. The boy was digging a small ditch with his Super Man action figure's head and paid no mind to her. Now Ginny lived in New York. She looked with one eye frantically into her locker mirror and the other eye coolly at his approaching figure. It was him again: Mason Tearing. A Junior now walking down the halls seemingly in slow motion, with an endless assortment of individuals to make suave gestures at. He was coming her way. She closed her locker and leaned up against it seductively only to watch him walk right past her without taking notice. Over the course of the next two days she watched him from afar, from closer, from a few seats over in three classes, from down the cafeteria line. She listened to his responses in history and joined the discussion, but no attention was paid by him to her. Finally, she awoke early one morning. "This will be the day," she thought. She groomed herself carefully, brushing her hair with more strokes than normal. She put on an especially frilly flower print dress and yellow pumps. She ate a breakfast of grapes, cheese, and tea and was out the door, determined. "It's the first week of Junior year," she thought to herself. "I want to make a positive impression on everyone," she lied to herself.
She followed him from a distance for most of that day, yellow and green flower print swaying behind her over a layer of crinoline. She carefully placed her pumps one after the other, so as not to be detected but making a distinctly rhythmic and conscientious sound. She found him finally at a moment when he wasn't surrounded by popular girls and summoned the courage to confront him with her intentions. She wanted to be his girlfriend and told him so.
"I thought you couldn't get accepted into The Academy if you still believed in boyfriends and girlfriends," he laughed. "I'm not looking for a girlfriend, I'm looking for a first concubine, sweetheart, and you haven't got the stuff." Mason condescended, pointing at Ginny up and down and turned away.
"Wait!" said Ginny. "We know each other. My dad built your house, twelve years ago. I was there."
"Oh yes. New money," he said walking towards her. "That explains the dress. Daddy got you this dress didn't he?" he asked, testing the weave of a ruffle lined sleeve on Ginny's dress. She looked away. He leaned into her and in a slow, low, even tone said, "Do you want to know what I'm looking for?" She caught his eyes. "I'm looking for a woman of her own. A woman who can stand on her own, but chooses not to... For me. I want a resilient concubine, who can handle punishment, training, recourse, and criticism. I would take the strength right out of you in one breath, whip you senseless, humiliate you publicly and everyone would know your sole purpose in life was to serve me."
Ginny listened carefully and ran off in embarrassment, not because she was horrified by what Mason had told her, but because of a familiar sensation. It began as tingling in her stomach, moving down, further down, until she could feel the wetness forming inside her and her insides quivering. She had experienced this before and it was humiliating in front of other people. His words had excited her tremendously, to the point of near orgasm and she had to run to spare herself the embarrassment of coming in front of everyone. It wasn't just the talk of the whippings that excited her, but she found the idea of an entire life in service most intoxicating. This was different from her home life. Her father did not let her mother bow down to him every day and raised Ginny not to believe in such things. Sure her parents "played" once in awhile, as they called it. But her mom and dad just had a regular marital contract, not a Master/slave contract. Her mom wasn't a concubine, but Ginny dreamed of such a life. It seemed glamorous and exciting and daddy's little girl wanted to break free and have a taste.
The next day she had renewed determination and dressed herself differently. She wanted to be a blank slate so she wore jeans with a white tank and walked up to Mason again expressing her interest in his terms in front of a crowd of people.
"Pardon me?" he asked. "I didn't hear you."
"I am sorry for running from you yesterday. I am here to present myself in agreement to your terms." Everyone in the crowd turned to look at Ginny. Then they all looked at Mason who neither flinched nor paused.
"The first guideline pertains to your dress, which is currently unacceptable at best." There were some giggles from the crowd. "You are to wear only the shortest of skirts. NONE of those ridiculous pantyhose of any variety. No panties. Only the highest of heels, and only the most miniscule of bras. Report to me for inspection tomorrow morning at seven thirty." And he turned away from her. The popular kids continued conversing as if nothing just happened but Ginny knew something monumental just occurred. Mason Tearing accepted her as an applicant to become his first concubine. "First Concubine of Mason Tearing," she said to herself. She said it over and over as she walked away from that crowd, no longer concerned about her status in comparison to them. Only her status with Mason mattered now.
Ginny didn't own any clothes that fit what Mason described and she had to go shopping after school to meet her requirements. She purchased what she best thought fit his description and met him in the school parking lot at seven thirty the next morning dressed all in blue to accentuate her continuously changing eye color. She wore a light blue halter bra with bright sea blue lace trim and a navy mini skirt. She wore dark blue ankle boots which she could barely walk in and, as an added bonus, she decorated her navel with blue rhinestones.
Mason arrived at seven thirty promptly. She spotted him walking from a distance and attempted not to stare but his physique was stunning and as she glimpsed at him from the corners of her eyes she tried to match his greatness with her own sex appeal but simply couldn't shake the insecurities stemming from being dressed the way she was. He neared, looked into her green, then brown eyes and ran his hand down the back of her head, stroking and examining her naturally orange locks as they twisted and slipped lazily in between his fingers. He ran the whole of his palms down her shoulders and arms and Ginny felt his warmth filling and melting her. He grabbed her hands and stepped back to take the sight of her in and seemed pleased.
"What is your name girl?"
"Ginny," she answered instantly, obediently.
"Ginny. I know you went shopping last night to purchase what you are wearing. I know your father and he would never have allowed you to wear such clothing in public. Did you have any trouble getting out of the house this morning?"
"No Sir, I didn't. I live in my own home on my father's property. No one saw me leave. Besides, I wore a coat," she said, proud of her resourcefulness.
"You are a very beautiful girl, Ginny. Although it pleases me to see you dressed in the manner in which I have instructed there is a problem with the way you carried out your first assignment." This statement startled Ginny. What had she done wrong, she wondered. When she got dressed this morning, Ginny felt like a goddess, like a sexual butterfly emerging from layers of childish flower prints, crinoline, bows, and ruffles. But now she began wondering just how difficult this lifestyle really was. As they walked to a nearby bench Mason spoke with Ginny about the importance of family and Ginny struggled to split her focus between the pinching in her toes and hamstrings and keeping the conversation lively but agreeable.
"Family is important, Ginny, but so will be your journey with me. If you choose to continue on this path, you cannot hide who you are. I am pleased with your efforts and would like to move forward with you but I need a commitment from you that you are willing to be my applicant publicly. That means no hiding from your father. Can you agree to that right now?"
