Perfection-01
Perfecton - Chapter One
- by xenaRRa
To Kelley without whom this would have remained only a dream.
All characters in this work are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This work may not be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author.
Copyright 1989 by K. Xenarra Brown.
PERFECTION
- by Xenarra
Chapter One
- Are you the man of my dreams? 6' +, dark hair & eyes, bearded, and "that look". Physically, mentally, and emotionally strong. You can set the rules. Please help me. Post Office Box 123, Mycity, Texas. 79999
The ad had been a bet, done on a dare. Co workers had been commiserating about the ups and downs of relationships and she had joined in, venting a bit of steam about the wimps and nerds she seemed to attract lately. Later that day, the ad copy had appeared on her desk along with a 20 dollar bill and a note daring her to place the ad. She had felt foolish and put on the spot. She placed the ad, kept the $20, and pushed the incident to the back of her consciousness. The response was a surprise.
- Dear Miss Help Me:
- Respond at once with your address. Follow all directions. I am whom you seek.
The note was handwritten and delicately scented with a spicy odor. She felt certain someone was having fun at her expense. She decided to push them a little further.
- Dear Sir:
- Below is my address. Prove it.
She found the small, unmarked package braced against her door as she went to work. Curiosity got the best of her. By the time she had settled herself in her old car and begun to warm the engine, the box was open. Inside, a finely wrought gold bracelet and a note with that same scent.
- Wear this on your right ankle today. Think about this evening. Be home by 6. Follow all directions.
The bracelet was pretty enough for her to want to wear it. Although she had never tried wearing an anklet before, she set the brake, opened the car door, stepped out and placed her right foot on the edge of the car. "I'm sure I look really terrific in this pose," she thought to herself. "I wonder if this will snag my hose?" Getting back into the car, she released the brake and began the drive through rush hour traffic to work.
The day started out slow and quickly cooled off. She could not believe the amount of trivial "vital" work stacked on her desk. Though her fingers typed the correct words, her mind was occupied elsewhere. She tried to concentrate but her mind always returned to the smell of his notes, his strong looking handwriting, and the anticipation of the promised evening.
The day wore on and on. She was inattentive, jumpy. Everywhere she walked, the bracelet rubbed annoyingly against her leg. She removed it about 10 and placed it in her purse. After lunch a messenger delivered a note and a rose.
- You are not listening. Wear the bracelet.
Quickly scanning the room to see who had noticed, she found most eyes on her. Her face flushed, and she fled the room for the relative safety of the washroom, her handbag and the note clutched firmly. Setting them down, she splashed cold water on her cheeks until the hot flush subsided. She fixed her face, then folded the note twice and placed it in her purse. Returning to her desk, she regained enough composure to meet the stares of her curious and perhaps envious co workers. She attempted to return to work. But what to do about the bracelet?
Thinking of the note and the rose, she shivered; how had he discovered where she worked? He had to be following her. Did she really want any part of someone who would keep this close a watch on her every action? He was probably some kind of a nut. Maybe she should do what he wanted. No, she resolved not to be swayed by such nonsense. But the sweet anticipation of the evening had begun to pale. Her day had been ruined by this unknown stranger. She wanted to sneak out of the office the back way, but from the way everyone had noticed the rose and her quick exit, it was obvious that she would have to stick it out and make a pretense of working. As she sat at her desk, she thought of his note, and her face flushed. She glanced about to see if she was as conspicuous as she felt. Apparently not, for all had gone back to work. The bracelet stayed in her purse.
About an hour after her firm resolution, the bracelet seemed to call to her with a will of its own, and she gave in, reattaching it. "I'm not going to follow anyone's orders," she rationalized. "But I'll probably lose the damn thing and this joker will expect it back. If I wear it, at least it can't be misplaced."
Later that day, she lost the feeling of the bracelet. It no longer made her feel awkward and self conscious. As she attempted to focus on her work, She was constantly side tracked by the feeling of anticipation and uncertainty that washed over her at regular intervals. She forgot to watch out for the anklet and it snagged on a table leg, broke the delicate clasp and fell to the floor. She never noticed its absence.
- Drive home carefully.
The note was on her windshield. "Enough!" she cried aloud, crumpling the note and tossing it into the car. "Doesn't this guy have a job someplace? Does he have to spend the entire day annoying me? God, what HAVE I gotten myself into now?"
Even in saying that, she knew that she had committed herself to at least meet the guy. He had said something about tonight in one of those never ending notes. There was obviously no use bringing home any work. She had no idea how late a night could be ahead. Even if nothing developed, she was too emotionally drained from the suspense to concentrate on anything more difficult than television. Another package against her apartment door. Now her fingers were shaking. She locked the door behind herself, fell into the deep, soft couch, and fumbled the wrappings. Out fell bath oil, a razor, and, of course, a note:
- Close the drapes, run a hot bath and soak for 1/2 hour. Shave yourself completely. Dress to go out casually but be feminine. Check the door when you're dressed.
The bath seemed a good idea and the oil was her favorite fragrance. Bending to remove the ankle bracelet, she realized that it no longer enclosed her ankle. "Oh, shit," she muttered, "where did I lose it?" A frantic search of the apartment and the sidewalk to her car revealed nothing. The bracelet was not in her car, either. She stood by the car, fidgeting for a few minutes, torn by indecision. Finally she returned to the apartment, resolving to look for it at work the next day.
She slid out of her work clothes and attempted to slide out of the annoyances and frustrations the day had created. The water was warm and soft, caressing her skin as she lay back. Her large, firm breasts floated, the nipples becoming red from the heat of the water. The warmth had a relaxing effect on the tenseness in her back and neck, but also seemed to stimulate places which had long been neglected. But by the time she actually considered doing something about the urges which had been aroused; the water had cooled and the moment passed.
She picked up the razor and lifted her slender arms one by one and lathered, shaved, and rinsed. She next worked the soap into a rich mixture and caressed it over her right leg. Her touch was more tender than that of a lover as she stroked the razor up above her knee, removing every hair. The left leg followed suit, the whisper soft cuts of the razor leaving no harsh stubble behind. She ran her hands over the smoothness of her legs, massaging the warm, slippery water into her muscles. That was as much as she usually shaved; just enough to get by. Maybe he wanted her thighs smooth and hairless, too.
She knelt and covered her inner thighs with fresh lather. She shaved even more slowly here, up her leg to where it met her body. She again ran her hands over the freshly shaven area, checking for any missed spots. Rising clean, she considered her crotch. Her legs were smooth until they met the dark curls there. Maybe just a bit off the top and sides. The lather was so thin she could see each hair glistening as she trimmed her naturally thick bush back. After a few moments, however, the awkwardness of the position began to tire her. She didn't dare make a mistake here. Anyway, she had probably already removed enough to please him. Surely what she had done was what he meant by shaving completely.
As she lifted herself from the tub, the oily water slid from her skin deliciously. The sudden chill of the air formed goose bumps. She felt her nipples harden sharply, pinchingly. The nap of the towel as she dried herself made her feel as though her skin had come alive. The overall effect of the bath was to restore an inner vibrancy which had been dormant for months.
Wandering over to her chest of drawers, she hunted until she found the right underthings. They were light cream, nearly sheer, very lacy, and slippery soft. The tight bra tended to push her breasts up and over the lace. The panties were bikini cut, but covered her. As she was still quite warm from the bath, she decided to stay undressed for a while and check on the state of the apartment.
She walked back into the bathroom and laid out fresh towels. The steam had just about left the mirror. Her reflection had an unearthly glow through the mist. As her thoughts flashed back to the rose and the afternoon of anticipation, she watched the delicate flush creep into her cheeks again and quickly turned away to the bedroom.
The sheets were clean; pale blue and satin. She removed her nightgown from one of the bedposts and returned it to the closet. Her work clothes were also returned to their proper resting places; shoes, skirt, and jacket carefully set back into place, soiled blouse and underwear tossed into the hamper. By now the air seemed quite chilly, and she went to the closet to choose an outfit for the evening.
She walked in and turned to the dresses. She held them up, peering through the dim, afternoon light at her reflection in the full length mirror. None of them was quite right, some too formal, others too businesslike. She would rather have worn jeans and been relaxed and comfortable, but the tone of his letter precluded anything but a dress or skirt. She turned to the rack to skirts and blouses, somehow hoping to find something new. Of course, the choices were the same as they had been that morning.
Finally, she chose a rose sweater and skirt which clung to her breasts and waist. Although it seemed a bit conservative, perhaps for a first date it would be appropriate.. She decided against hose until she knew where they would be dining. She tied her long, brown hair back with a bow of a darker shade of pink. At least her hair could be relaxed.
When she checked the door, another note had appeared:
- Leave the door slightly ajar. Kneel about 10 feet from the door, facing away. Wait.
At first she closed and locked the door, preferring being alone than further suspense. The "not knowing" caused her to cautiously open the door and check after a few minutes. No further note. No one around. Sighing heavily, she complied with the instructions. "Anything to end the suspense," she mumbled to no one in particular.
Lost in her own thoughts, she gradually became aware of a presence behind her. That same faint, spicy odor, and a certain heaviness of step piqued her curiosity. As she started to turn and check, her shoulders were held in place from behind by large, firm hands.
"Don't move." His voice was low and resonant. She shuddered inadvertently as he spoke. He slipped a blindfold over her eyes, then caught and handcuffed her hands behind her as she lifted them to remove the cloth. In one quick move he deftly placed a gag into her surprised mouth. This was certainly more than she had bargained for when she first placed the ad.
The only sounds she could hear were his footsteps and steady breathing as he circled her, lifting her hair, testing the muscles of her arms and legs, stroking her breasts beneath her sweater. She tried to struggle, but whenever she moved an inch, his hands immediately held her in place. When he had finished his inspection, he stood her up and guided her across the room where he helped her kneel in front of the couch. He sat down and began stoking her hair, first one side, then the other, slowly, persistently.
At first she shied away from the touch. He ignored this and continued to stroke. She began to respond to his touch in spite of herself. She felt the tension leave her shoulders. As she relaxed, his strokes brought her slightly forward, leaning in toward his legs. His warm touch continued and she melted under it, inching toward him and resting her head on the rough textured fabric of his trouser knee. He spoke as he caressed her.
"You are a woman who is looking for someone to be an outside control. I am that person. Because we are made for each other, I may claim you as my rightful property. After tonight you will make a decision that will affect the course of your life. For tonight, however, you decided that I was in control when you dared me to prove myself. Nod your head if you agree."
Nodding was all she could do. Resisting seemed impossible, unthinkable. He had explained in a few, quick words what it had taken her years to discover. His warm, quiet touch had removed, at least for the moment, her willpower and resistance. No one had ever taken charge of her like this. She had never allowed it. The very realization that someone else was in control was exciting.
He stepped behind her and unfastened the handcuffs and the clasps of her clothing. She did not resist his touch; she was under his control. Her clothing slid from her body and he gave a low whistle in appreciation of her more obvious assets. Soon she was kneeling again, though this time unfettered and clad only in her underwear. He stood behind her, removed the gag and raised the blindfold slightly. As her eyes readjusted to the light, she saw a pair of sturdy looking hands holding a shining silver chain with heavy links, a padlock, and a tag with the words "SLAVE RETURN FOR REWARD" and an address engraved on it a few inches from her eyes.
"Read the first word aloud," he ordered bruskly.
"Slave," she whispered.
"Louder. And add an explanation."
"Slave. Human property. Having no self will but bound by the needs and desires of an owner."
"I disagree with your explanation, but I will accept it for now due to your inexperience. I think you will learn a new definition tonight." He fastened and locked the chain around her smooth, slender neck. There was just enough room for a deep breath. He ran a finger under the links testing the fit and the firmness.
"The collar is yours. Who is the slave?"
"I am the slave," came the reply.
"Based on your own explanation, are you glad to be a slave? Do you want to have no self will and be bound by the needs and desires of an owner?"
"I don't know. I think I want to know, but I'm a little scared." Her voice quavered a little at this admission.
"I think that you are more interested in fulfilling a fantasy that actually changing your lifestyle and becoming a true slave. We'll have an answer before the night is over. But, where were we? Oh, yes, you are a slave. And what is my name, little slave?" His voice compelled her to answer.
"I don't know your name. You've never signed one of your notes. What do I call you?"
"Who owns a slave?" he asked in response.
"A Master?" she ventured.
"Very good." His voice full and warm. "From now on, all commands and questions will be answered 'Yes, Master'. Failure to do so will indicate disrespect. Disrespectfulness is unbecoming in a slave and must be corrected swiftly and thoroughly. Do you understand, slave?"
"Yes"
He bent over, took her hair and quickly lowered her head to the floor leaving her heart shaped, cream colored target delightfully exposed. The Master struck her butt with his firm hand sharply, twice. She cried out, more from the unexpectedness than from the pain, and he struck her twice more.
She bit back the pain and sobbed silently with rage and fear. What was happening? This wasn't a game; he was serious, much more serious than she expected. But, kneeling there with the hand marks still burning into her buttocks, she felt her clit grow hard and her pussy moist. Her whole essence tingled.
"Do you now understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"What are you?"
"A slave, Master."
"The second spanking was for crying. When I punish you it is for your own good. How do you expect to become a better slave and more pleasing to a master if you are never disciplined. You must always thank me at the end of discipline. Understand?
"Yes," she hesitated purposefully, "Master".
"Oh, you are sly. Well, that doesn't make it here. You will respond properly and promptly, or pay the consequences. There are no second chances, just first opportunities to please."
With his last words, he flipped her arms behind her and cinched them together and to the collar about her neck with a leather strap. He replaced the gag and blindfold, and said, "Your definition of a slave did not include obedience. You must learn to obey me without question and without hesitation. Since you are having difficulty learning from verbal commands, we will go back to the basics. I will give you non verbal commands with taps of my boots. You will crawl on your belly to help you learn another important lesson, humility. Only my taps will keeps you from bumping into things. If you move too slowly, you will be disciplined. This is your opportunity to prove me how quickly you can learn."
He then placed earplugs firmly in each of her ears. A silent scream arose in her at the loss of sound. She was totally helpless and at his mercy. At first she was paralyzed, unable to move even when prodded by his toe. A few swats brought her back to reality, however; and he proved as good as his word. She rapidly developed rug burns on her belly from wriggling along the course he set. Whenever she hesitated for an instant, his hand fell swiftly and heavily across her buns and thighs. He gradually guided her into the closet of her bedroom. She recognized the smells there and felt safe until his touch ceased. She was left alone, bound and helpless, locked in her own closet.
Every attempt to stand, failed. Finally, exhausted, she fell heavily on her side and let her mind wander. When the sleep came, it was a welcome release from the confusion and discomfort of her mind and body.
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