It all started so simply, going door to door, selling magazine subscriptions to augment my meagre university endowment. I had been on the road all day, with little success, when I arrived at a house, set well back, on at least two acres of well-manicured lawns, even a small lake and waterfall. Dressed in a scant top and shorts, hair in disarray from a hot humid summer day, I hesitated before approaching, expecting immediate rejection. Upon pulling an old fashioned chain and hearing a bell ring within, I was surprised when the door was opened by a man in his late forties, very fit, glowing in health and exuding confidence. He took one look at me and said, "I was expecting you, please come in."
Hesitantly, I entered the great cavernous hall, its very size intimidating; the large cold flagstones underfoot reverberating to our every step. A musty smell of soot and sulphur, ash or fire long dead, assailed my nostrils, but I shook it off as being fanciful.
He led me to the kitchen, sparkling in its stainless steel modernity, warm and more intimate, where he sat me down and then made his proposition; at the time it seemed so coldly calculating.
"My name is Fawnus, Jon de Fawnus and you are Felicity. Well named, so apt for such a fresh, faithful and truthful person, right?" Was he mocking me, I wondered silently?
Knowing a name can be a wondrous and terrible thing, sometimes magical; but uttering a true name can be frightening, since it gives power over a person to those who speak it aloud. I shuddered, wondering how he could possibly know my name!
He stood tall, legs spread wide, reducing his apparent stature; chiseled features, stark upon his face. A brief shift of light created an image of ears pointed and legs naked, wide-spread, hirsute and curving; a sudden impression of something different sprouted unbidden to my mind. This vision welled up, vivid, as my fear grew, suggesting something less than human; then quickly dissipated. I promptly suppressed it as ridiculous.
He began slowly: "I have a proposition to make. Hear me out before you decide. I want to explore with you, feelings and emotions you have locked inside, buried deep. I want to release those emotions and set you free. Deep down you are wondrous, if we can raise your true beauty to the surface, then you will shine, skin aglow, eyes alight, face radiant, your innate sexuality revealed. Even your odour will change, exuding a new fragrance, both exciting and enticing."
This surprised me, since I think of myself as rather drab; plain of face, neither interesting nor particularly pretty, hair not blond or dark, but somewhere in between, pert breasts descending to a narrow waist, emphasing my best feature, an ass well rounded and long coltish legs.
However, he saw something else there, a potential for unmasked beauty, possibilities deeply hidden but indicative nonetheless.
Then, he made his final proposal: if I would comply with everything he proposed for the next seven days, he would buy subscriptions to everything I was offering and pay my university fees for the next year.
I was excited, not only by my potential sales, but by the suggestive nature of his offer.
I still hesitated as I pondered his proposal. Wondering at the path he had laid out before me, somewhat moved, although still fearful, I wanted to go forward.
A frisson of excitement went through me as a whole different world opened up before me.
Finally, I nodded in dumb acquiescence, my mouth dry, tongue cloven, unable to speak, a nod and a hesitant "yes" was all I managed, barely audible.
As I left, I again had that strange feeling of moist and cloying heat welling up; a faint hint of soot and ash, long dead, came to mind, with a shudder, I shook it off as absurd.
Once again I debated my return, but knew I must if I was ever to throw off the coils of inhibition and reticence which held me fast.
So began my seven days of pain and bliss.
Day 1:
I arrived early, as expected, clad in my usual attire, shorts and top. The door was open, but the flagstoned vestibule was uninviting, almost intimidating, as it once again echoed to my every step.
With a shudder I passed through to the relative warmth of the kitchen, where I was awaited.
Surprising he did not ask me to undress but rather admired me as I was, taking in hair, neck, back, buttocks and legs, as if assessing my potential. He stood there quietly, taking it all in, assessing and measuring, as if he had all the time in the world. All he said was, "I think you will do. My assistant, Anna, will help you with dress and comportment, but first a few strikes of the strap and cane, just as a sample. Three over your shorts and three on the bare. Bend over and prepare yourself. My assistant will administer the strokes."
A blond, statuesque girl had entered from the dining room, strap and cane in hand, already prepared for my initiation. She was somewhat formidable, standing tall and proud in her dominance.
Without hesitation, she admonished me: "Bend over and prepare to receive your first discipline." After the initial six on my shorts, which I barely felt, she ordered me to bare myself.
"You do understand that this is not only to initiate you but also for your master's pleasure! How you handle yourself will go well for you in the future."
I wanted to do this right, since I was on probation and desperately wanted to please. I slowly lowered my shorts, right down to my ankles; since I was not wearing panties nothing else was necessary; wanting to satisfy, anticipating and welcoming what was to come.
In tremulous voice I asked, "Should I now totally remove my shorts and spread my legs wide, exposing myself fully?"
