Author's note ~ this story contains a diversity of sexual tastes, including:
anal, lesbian, gay, BDSM, and group scenes
, among others. If any of these flavors offend you, please move on to somewhere else. This is the first thing I've ever written and I hope some of you will enjoy it.
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My name is Veronica Fallon. I am eighteen years old and have lived a very sheltered, innocent life in the small castle of my father. That small world has grown beyond imagining thanks to my divine Mistress. This tale is a tribute of love and gratitude to her.
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I grew up quietly, somewhat isolated and alone compared to most girls I'd seen. My mother died when I was just an infant, and as a result, I didn't have any brothers or sisters. The few other children in our castle had to work daily, as they were able to, so I had no playmates at home. Since I was rarely allowed in the village I'd made no friends there either. I was fairly content though, with my books, my art supplies, my pretty dolls, and my nature hikes throughout father's large estate. It had thus far been a pleasant life, but a narrow one.
A variety of handmaidens and tutors raised me, but they showed little interest in my welfare and education, other than the minimum required to maintain their positions within my father's manor. Father has many land-holdings in this realm, and spends almost all of his time traveling throughout his properties or scouting new ones to acquire. I see him quite rarely. He is a solemn man, paying me scant attention when home, but always seeing that I have new books and things with which to amuse myself, and fine, newly made clothes to wear. The various women who raised me were neither kind nor unkind to me, but rather indifferent. I've learned academics well enough from them but next to nothing about the grace and sexuality of womanhood. I kept all my questions and silent yearnings locked secretly inside my heart...until recently.
The land and age in which I live considers a female a child until the age of eighteen, and thus treats her as such in every aspect. Her innocence is protected this way, but her knowledge and growth are limited as well.
Upon her eighteenth birthday a girl is 'given' to a Mistress, chosen by her parents, to be taught the ways of being a woman. She becomes the property of this Mistress until the Mistress decides her slave/student has fully become a woman, deserving the title of 'Mistress' for herself. If the Mistress happens to fall in love with the girl she may keep her indefinitely, using her in any and all ways she might desire. Should the girl become too insolent, or otherwise troublesome, the Mistress may punish her in any way she sees fit. Usually, restraint or occasional beatings will suffice to keep the girl properly servile, but if not, the Mistress is free to sell her or to give her away. A good Mistress may also choose to reward her slave's efforts at learning subservience, obedience, and the high art of femininity.
I've read tales of evil, abusive mistresses, and of wonderful, caring ones, of spoiled, impudent slaves, and of eagerly submissive ones. My own Mistress has now owned me since my birthday four months ago, and is among the very best; much better in fact than I could have hoped for.
My time with Mistress began with a letter from Father on the morning of my big day. It read,
Happy birthday Princess Veronica. I last saw you as an innocent, young girl and I will only see you again when you have perchance become a true woman. As you know, I've chosen a Mistress to become your new owner as of today. She will arrive this morning by carriage to gather you and your things and return to her distant estate, known as Deepwood Manor. I will have no further contact with you unless she chooses to release you someday as a free woman. I expect you to maintain honor of the name 'Fallon' by doing your best to please her and to learn from her. I wish you all the best on your journey to womanhood. Warm regards, Father.
Although I did indeed know well of the vast changes in store for me on this day, his words made it suddenly all too real in my heart. I felt a contrasting mixture of longing curiosity, tense excitement, and deep foreboding. I was fearful of so much newness but eager for it as well. I was almost breathless with a strange, conflicted type of anticipation.
I soon heard the clatter of hooves on the cobblestones below and peeked out my high window to see the woman of my destined future, the one who would own and control me forthwith from this day. She stepped confidently down from the carriage in her tight, black leather boots, which ran all the way up inside her short, matching skirt. Her light auburn hair cascaded around the shoulders of her open, ankle-length, black calfskin long-coat. She looked so beautifully imposing that I felt my stomach quiver and twist with mixed emotions. She all but ignored the waiting servants as she boldly climbed the wide, stone steps, and entered my childhood refuge. I felt that childhood slipping quickly away.
My room was in the top of the castle tower, several stories up, which made me have to strain at my cracked door to hear the voices below. I was waiting to be summoned by my father's staff, when instead, I heard the murmured voices cease, replaced with the echo of the Lady's boots as she began to rise the spiral staircase to my private quarters. My emotions were suddenly no longer ambiguous. Only fear reverberated inside my chest now, the thumping of my heart keeping nearly perfect time with her authoritative footsteps.
She entered without knocking and didn't say a word. I felt quite intimidated, and merely gazed at her in humbled awe. She brazenly looked me up and down for a long moment before her frown turned to a steely smile. She introduced herself, her voice dripping with molten ice, her face a mask of stone, "I am Mistress Kathryn, your new keeper. From this day forward, you will do exactly as I command. To show your understanding of this fact, and your compliance to it, you will begin by kneeling down and kissing my boots."
Eager to do well, I responded meekly, "Yes ma'am," and swiftly knelt down in front of her. I then bent lower, with my face all the way to the cold floor, and kissed every inch of her sinister looking boots.
How incredibly embarrassing,
I thought, not for the last time.
Her voice softened slightly, "Very good Veronica. If you always respond so obediently, you will become quite a delicious little plaything to me, and eventually a woman of grace and charm in your own right. Now rise and let us be off." I followed her, my head bowed down timidly. I stole a quick glance at the warm, soft comfort of my childhood room, wondering if I might ever see it again.
