Perfection-02
Perfecton - Chapter Two
- 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 Two
Because she could "feel" his presence, she woke. Her hands were no longer bound behind her. She chaffed her wrists to take away the tingling, though the feeling of being watched was overwhelming. After a few minutes, she stopped fidgeting and just waited. His strong hands helped her to her knees, and he removed the earplugs and gag.
"What have you learned, slave?" His words were almost tender.
"To always obey and please you quickly and completely, Master," she replied, her voice barely audible. She was so thirsty she could hardly speak.
"Stay on your knees and come here, then. You will get your chance to please me."
She could tell by the sound of his voice that he was directly ahead, probably sitting on the end of the bed. She moved forward as quickly as she could, the rug burns from the evening's earlier activities a constant sting. But before she was mentally prepared, her shoulders bumped into his knees. Hands took hold of her head; fingers traced her forehead, delicately pulled the hair away from her face, pushing it behind her ears. He pulled her head to him until it rested on his thigh. She could smell a musky odor that was not at all unpleasant. The fabric of his trousers rubbed against her cheek as he held her there.
"Are you thirsty?" His voice was soft and low.
"Yes, Master. May I have some water, please?" The gag had so dried her mouth that it was difficult to answer.
"Nice. You answered properly. You have begun to depend upon your Master for the satisfaction of your needs. You may lick my finger to get a bit of water."
His large, blunt finger traced her lips, coating them with cool water. She ventured her tongue out, plucking a single drop from his fingertip. He dipped it into his water glass again and raised it to her lips. She made love with her mouth to that finger, her swirling tongue lapping every drop of moisture.
"Very good, slave. Would you like a drink of this water?" His voice teased her as he brushed her lips with the cool glass. She sensed that she shouldn't give in and just reach for it. She must only answer the question. As her physical need warred with her intellect, she hesitated a moment too long.
"I guess you don't want any, then." He pulled the glass away.
"Yes, please Master." Her voice was almost a whisper.
"Yes, please, what?"
"Yes, please, may I have a drink of the water, Master?"
"Yes, slave." He lifted her head away from his leg and brought the glass to her lips. She longed to drink, but still waited for permission.
"I trust you will continue to be a worthy slave." He rubbed the glass over her parched mouth until she was ready to scream.
"Drink now, good slave. You deserve a reward for waiting so politely."
"Thank you, Master," she croaked as she reached for the glass. A part of her mentally stepped away and tried to make some sense of the total control she had allowed this stranger to exert over her. But the thirsty part of her discarded all logical thoughts and concentrated on drinking as much and as quickly as possible. Finally, she handed back the empty glass.
"Slave, you say you've learned to obey and please me. Answer me now, truthfully. You know there are penalties for lying, don't you?"
"Yes, Master," she answered quietly.
"So, then, have you followed my instructions today completely?"
"Yes, Master."
"Is there anything you want to tell me? Or ask forgiveness for?"
She hesitated a moment. Had he noticed the absence of the bracelet? If not, she could find it tomorrow and not have to face immediate consequences for nothing. He did seem to be pretty easily upset. Which was the greater risk?
"No, Master." She had chosen what appeared to be the lesser of the two evils.
"You are ready to serve me totally, for tonight?"
"Yes, Master."
"I want you to tell me exactly how you have pleased men with your mouth. Tell me your experiences giving head." His voice was soft, yet commanding.
There was silence as she tried to work out what he meant. Her bedroom antics had been largely Puritanical to this point, but she was widely read. Confusion swept over her and her brain refused to respond.
"Sucking cock," he prompted. "Tell me, now!"
The tone of his voice removed her mental inertia, and she raced through her library of fantasies, trying to remember the best ones.
"I guess I've always loved sucking a man off. Of course, many men have begged me to practice my skill on them. I like licking the head in slow swirls until it is large and full. I can then just barely fit my lips over it. I always use extra saliva to wet the dick as I go down all the way. Most men
come after only a few minutes in my mouth," she concluded. She desperately wanted him to believe her fantasy and with equal desperation hoped that he wouldn't question her or put her to a test.
"Deep throat?" he questioned.
"Always, Master," she replied.
"That sounds delightful, slave." He rubbed her face up and down over his cloth covered, rapidly hardening member. His hands were strong but gentle. The cloth over his dick stretched and pulled in lines she could feel with her lips. The warmth of his legs intensified his natural odors. The sensations combined and bombarded her. With a will of its own, her tongue sought him out, darting about, sampling textures and tastes.
"Yes, I can see you'd like to please me. Why don't you unzip my pants and show me some of your obvious skill." His voice was low, urgent, almost a growl.
She reached up and worked away at his zipper until she had it lowered a few inches. Impatiently he brushed her hands out of the way, unbuttoning and unzipping, finishing the task. Her hands sought his freed dick, but he caught them.
"Mouth only. Put your hands on my knees or I'll tie them behind you." She complied. He commanded, "Please me with your mouth, slave."
She imagined his cock as a swollen rod, the head dark purple. Her lips parted and her tongue came forward. This was new territory but she wanted to do her best.
She started with the same wet swirls she had described. He moaned lightly and tangled her hair in his fingers. Her tongue found the center and played with the hole for a moment before returning to the task of exploration. She began licking from the center downwards with the pointed tip of her tongue. The wetness she had spread over the tip made the trips of her tongue from the tip down glide rapidly. During every trip she paused to make an extra pass over the hard ridge. It seemed bigger and more coarse than she had imagined it could be.
"Mmm. Nice and wet. But how about deeper," he said as he pulled her further onto his meat. For a moment she relaxed and her slurping sounds filled the air. Then the overwhelming reality of having a man's penis actually in her mouth hit. She coughed and gagged, spitting his cock out as she tried to keep her stomach in place.
"Oh, my!" His voice was tinged with mock surprise. "When you bragged about your skill, I guess I expected more. But you can't please me with your mouth as well as you bragged, can you?"
"No, Master." She hung her head, ashamed to be caught in her lies. "Why did you lie?" he demanded.
"I wanted to please you. I did the best I could. I've never actually done that before, only read about it." The words rushed out. "I'm sorry, Master."
"You have begun to please me, my dear. But you must always be truthful so I won't have unrealistic expectations of your abilities. And lying never pleases me. As you have become the slave you can be, you will be taught how to please a man fully. But maybe your body is already trained in another method of bringing pleasure."
He got up, stepped behind her, ran his hand up under her hair to her scalp at the nape of her neck, and took hold of a good quantity of her hair. Tears sprang to her eyes as he brought her to her feet, but she was afraid to say anything. He released her head and she sagged a bit, but revived again under his touch as his hands traveled lightly down her shoulders to her breasts. They stayed there for a moment, enjoying the sensation of the tiny bumps at the edge of her areolas hardening upon his touch. She felt his already stiff cock pressing against her back and leaned back into it slightly, moving ever so slightly and feeling the head rub her skin. Lust overcame him and with one swift motion he lowered his hands and removed her panties. Before she knew it, she was face down on the bed, her legs hanging over the end, his hard insistent body pressing against her. The blindfold had slipped off her eyes, but she still couldn't see his face.
"What's between these lovely legs? Maybe I'll just have to find out."
He separated her legs and sent his hot dick sliding down her ass toward her wet hole. Then he stopped. Something wasn't quite right. There was an extra resistance. He quickly flipped her over and stared at the dark place between her legs.
"What's wrong?" she cried in surprise. She squirmed to get away from his glare.
"What's wrong?" he mimicked. "Oh, no, master, I followed all your directions completely. No, master, I want to serve you. I want to please you." His voice continued on and on, her words coming back to haunt her. The eyes bore down upon her as if raining blows on her unprotected body.
"What? What did I do wrong?" she cried as she scrambled to get away.
He grabbed her as she tried to leave the bed, rolling her onto her back and pinning her down.
"What do you call this," he answered, tugging a bit on her curly bush.
"Hair, Master," she whimpered.
"Hair, Master?" he shot back. "You were to shave completely. That means everything. Shaving your cunt would have been shaving completely." The disappointment in his voice stung more than she thought possible. "To me," he continued, "an unshaven slave cunt is a cunt unfit for fucking by a master." His voice turned from disappointment to disapproval and she turned her eyes upward, for the first time really seeing him.
She could see him looming above her, a terrifying expression on his bearded face. His appearance was striking, staring with those dark eyes flashing from under a lock of black hair. He was bare from the waist up, his nipples aroused against a background of thick, black hair. The muscles of his body were as strong and powerful as his hands had felt. No wonder he had so little trouble controlling her. His belted jeans were undone and a full 9 inches of erect dick protruded from the opening. He was a man in his prime, primed and clearly not happy at the disappointment she had caused.
He caught her eye again and turned her protests to whimpers. Taking hold of her wrists, he lifted her up from the bed and swung her over his shoulder. All she could see was the swinging carpet as he carried her toward the kitchen. He deposited her none too gently onto the linoleum. Stuffing her now useless blindfold into his back pocket, he refastened his jeans and left the room.
She lay on the floor, dreading his return, torn by her emotions. How could he do this to her! This was supposed to be a fun evening. Getting carted around her apartment and dumped on the floor in the middle of what was looking quite promising wasn't her idea of a good time. She didn't want to be on the cold kitchen floor. It was obvious that this guy wasn't very stable. Who knew what strange ideas were still left in his devious mind. But as much as her intellect willed her to get up and confront him emotionally, she couldn't do it. She couldn't look him in the eyes again. The touch of his hands was hypnotic. He seemed to be able to reach into her very core and take what he wanted. Maybe if she just left the room, he would leave her alone. But by the time she had gotten to her knees and begun to rise, he was back.
She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice him slip up behind her until his fingertips ran lightly over her shoulders, startling her and raising goose bumps. She jumped at his touch and tried to turn, but, as before, his hands prevented any further movement. She felt her nipples rise painfully at the touch of his hands. Looking down, she could see her nipples harden under the only clothing she was still allowed, her flimsy bra.
Her master moved in front of her, hands still on her breasts. He began to fondle and pinch each nipple. When they were completely hardened, he slowly raised the scissors he had brought into the room. She was scared. She held her breath as he pulled the material away from her skin and cut off enough of
the thin fabric to allow each reddened nipple to peek through the holes. They looked like rosebuds, providing quite a contrast to the creamy lace surrounding each.
"You have proved that you have not been entirely truthful. Now you are not entirely clothed. It is a nice effect, though," he chuckled and grinned. "Now, up we go." He bent over and grabbed her snatch, tugging her up from her knees in one swift motion.
"Please," she gasped, "That hurts. Please don't. Please." Her voice raised an octave as she begged for release.
"Slaves," he said punctuating each word with a sharp tug on her pussy, "are supposed to be silent."
All of the anger she had been building up released at once. "OK!" she screamed. "Shave it off. It's better than pulling it out a handful at a time." Her face flushed with the intensity of her emotions.
He stood there, holding the hair in an ever tightening grip, looking at her. Just looking. The playfulness had left his face, and she flinched at the look that had replaced it. After a few seconds, she could no longer meet his eyes and looked away. He breathing, which had become irregular, began to slow and deepen again as he regained his composure.
"Ok," he said slowly. "I thought we had already dealt with your resistance"
"I'm sorry, Master," she began to interrupt but stopped after a quick glance at his face. She felt her heart sink within her and the will to resist flood away.
"As I was saying," he began again, "you obviously need more experience to decide what a slave is and should be. Fine by me." He dropped his hold on her and brought a six foot length of leather thong from his rear pocket. Doubling it, he thrust the fold into her mouth. "Hold this," he commanded. He left a good three inches of blank thong before beginning to tie three large knots. When he had finished, he removed the thong and slipped it over her collar, where it dangled between her breasts, and fastened it there.
"Pay attention to what I'm about to say. You will be held responsible for everything you hear," he began. "I can see that you have need of tangible evidence of your responsibilities. This is a teaching thong. Each knot represents a lesson to be learned. The more important the lesson, the larger the knot. The largest knots represent lessons which will take a great deal of time and effort on your part to learn and perfect. You must always know what each knot stands for and must never untie a knot until told to, because untying a knot indicates a lesson learned. On your thong today, the first knot will be on your thong until you demonstrate that you will tell the truth to me, even when it will most likely cause you discomfort. Take, for example, your ankle bracelet. You did lose it, didn't you?"
Her frightened eyes betrayed her. She nodded 'yes'.
"But you didn't want to tell me that, even when I gave you the opportunity to, because you were afraid I would be angry." Again she nodded. "Not shaving completely," he continued. "is an example of the second lesson you must learn, obedience. If you are told to wear something or shave completely, you must do it. The knot can be untied when you demonstrate the consistent ability to do what is required, no matter how unpleasant it may seem at the time.
"The last knot can be untied when you no longer defy me. If you choose to be under my guidance, you will choose to listen to my directions and obey not only their letter, but their spirit. Resentfulness and revenge have no place in my life or in the lives of those I choose to have around me. I can see them in you. When they leave, your actions will be much more loving and charitable toward everyone. I have the strength to force you to do my will. Instead, if I choose you, I will lead you, not bludgeon you over the head. But I will only choose you if you choose to remove this knot, and with it, any smoldering anger you harbor toward anyone. Is this perfectly clear?" There was a long pause as her thoughts raced beyond what he had said to the possible consequences of her actions. "Answer me!" he prompted.
"Yes, Master," she responded. Her senses were numbed, her responses rote.
"I'm not sure you're awake," he countered. "Test time. Explain what each of these knots is for."
She tried and failed. He expressed his disappointment with a single glance, and she began to cry. Seeing that, he paused for a moment and told her to take five deep breaths and think while he repeated the list of her lessons. She did that and calmed down enough to actually hear what he said. Still crying softly, she repeated the list correctly, and he held her in his arms for a long moment, stroking her hair and comforting her. "Slave, slave, how foolish you are. You will learn, at last, but why not learn sooner? Why not try just a little bit? Now, whenever I need to calm you down or remind you a lesson still unlearned, I'll simply say 'Knots.' All you have to do is to tell me what they mean, just like you did. Try it now. Knots."
Much to her amazement, she was able to recite the list flawlessly. She did feel calmer, and she could remember how safe it felt to be in his arms. The remembering relaxed her so much that her crying slowed to occasional sniffles. She began to feel a pride at being able to accomplish a task which he had assigned her.
Releasing her, he turned her toward the sink and cabinets. "Climb up there, slave."
"Yes, Master," she responded, glad to be away from his penetrating gaze, glad for an opportunity to do something else which might please him. Without consciously realizing it, she had begun to desire his touch, to long for the comfort which only he could give. A day before, she would have laughed at the notion. Things were definitely different now.
Once on the counter, he swung her legs over the sink and maneuvered her body so that only a fraction of her butt remained on the edge of the counter the rest dangled precariously over the porcelain. "Lie back," he ordered as he bent her right leg up to stabilize her and fastened the ankle to the faucet. He found a towel in one of the drawers and proceeded to lay out razors, scissors and shaving cream from a small bag she had not noticed before. He showed her each tool before laying it down and she began to wonder at the trusting feeling she had experienced only a moment ago. `Master or not, I'm not just going to lay here and get sliced to ribbons,' she concluded and began to try to sit up.
"Stay put, slave" he said, stepping between her left leg and the counter. "You wouldn't want to get cut, would you?" he added, showing her the wickedly sharp scissors he now held.
Shaken, she sank back to the counter. She imagined what he must be doing to her luxurious pubic hair as she hear the sound the snipping scissors. When he had trimmed the hair nearly to the skin, he drenched her pussy with the minty smelling cream and began to shave her mound smooth. She hadn't dared move since he had begun. Cramps were beginning to develop in her legs as she held them as steady as possible. She knew that the brightness of the overhead light would prevent him from making a mistake if only she could stay still.
Sooner than she had expected, he stopped and began to run the water. When it reached slightly warmer than body temperature, he began to wash the shaving cream from her now bare pussy. "Much better," he exclaimed, running his blunt finger over her new smoothness. He relathered her and went after the few hairs that he had missed the first time. This time he spread her legs even further apart and shaved all the way to her ass.
The water felt warmer and faster this time. He rinsed the area clean, then went back to her clitoris. The jet of water from the sink sprayer started her clit tingling. Her hands strayed down to participate in the fun, but he took them and held them above her head. His mouth reached down to fondle her nipples, bright tongue teasing and stimulating them. The warm water pulsed
against her shaved mound, and she reacted by raising her hips in rhythm. When she was about to go over the brink, he stopped abruptly. Untying her leg, he lifted her from the counter and set her feet on the floor.
"To the bedroom, slave," he cried, cracking her backside with his hand. "Run!"
Aglow with anticipation, she flew down the hall and fell onto the bed. Close on her heels, he arrived a moment after her and ignored her spread body, grabbed her arms, and pulled her back to her feet. "Knots." he commanded. Disappointed with this sudden turn of events, she tonelessly rattled off the list of lessons to be learned. "What is a slave?" he asked.
"Someone who lives to please a Master," she replied, becoming visibly more agitated.
"Knots," he said again, this time a bit more forcefully. She answered more quickly this time, remembering how nice it was to be comforted.
"Have you been pleasing to your Master?" he said. "Would a slave who trying to please her Master have been openly defiant and quietly deceitful?"
"No, Master. I wish I have acted differently," she answered truthfully.
"Punishment is one way to learn a lesson. Can you think of another?"
"I'm not going to lie again, Master, I promise. And I'm always going to do what you say."
"Demonstrate that, then. Remove my belt."
Her hesitation was only momentary. What choice did she have? As she obeyed his command and eased the thick, brown belt from the belt loops, she kept her eyes on her fingers, avoiding his face, dreading whatever was to come next. A brief flicker across her brain cried to her, 'Run! Fight! Anything but GET AWAY !'. But she couldn't do anything but continue to obey. How had his will, his desires, become so important in just a few hours? As her mind struggled with these thoughts, her hands finished their task and handed him the belt.
"No, offer it to me and explain what you need me to do and why."
"But I don't need any punishment. I've learned my lessons," her voice turned pleading. He looked at her, holding her with his glance as strongly as he could have with his powerful hands.
'Oh, God,' she thought, 'Now I have to beg to be punished. What the hell, just let's get this over with.' "Please, Master," she said as she held the
belt toward him, "I've been bad."
"Yes, slave. What should I do? And how have you been bad?"
"Please punish me, Master. I have displeased you with my actions and words."
"Better. Bend over and grab that post," he said, taking the belt and gesturing to the corner of the bed. "Don't let go for any reason," he added as he patted her hands which were tightly clenched around the post.
She felt foolish and vulnerable, her bare ass exposed and inviting. He ran his hands over her cheeks, first lightly, then more roughly, spreading and exposing her most private areas for his inspection. The belt he doubled and stuffed between her teeth before he began to spank her.
"You are now as exposed as your lies have made you. The next time you are tempted to lie to me, I want you to remember this feeling. How your every part is open to me and how I can see through your lies. And remember this as your reward for lying." The first few swats were soft, almost caressing. Then the blows began to fall heavier and faster, first on one cheek, then the other, until fire on her butt made her bite down hard on the belt to keep from crying aloud. As she began to move to try to avoid the blows, he stepped close and clasped her to him tightly, encircling her waist with one of his arms while he continued to punish her. Every few moments he would pause, switch hands, and remind her that he was only doing this to help her be a better slave. Then he would begin again, swats stinging in an almost primitive rhythm. When at last he stopped and stood her up, the tears were flowing down her face. He took the belt from her mouth, dried her tears with his handkerchief, and waited until she regained control.
"Why do I punish you, slave?"
"I, I don't know, Master."
"Come, come. You can think of a better answer than that."
"You said you're trying to make me a better slave, Master. But I've learned my lesson. I'll be good. I'll do whatever you tell me too. Please, don't hurt me any more," she pleaded.
"You may have learned some, but I don't think you really have learned all you can." He bent her back over and placed her hands again on the post. "Do not let go of this post, no matter what." He didn't have to tell her the consequences of letting go, she could guess that his displeasure would be painful.
Before he began to strike again, he ran his hands over her flaming ass and kissed each fiery bun, savoring the warmth. All too soon, though, he spread her legs apart and stepped back. Then he took both ends of the belt into his hands and pulled them tight suddenly, causing a loud crack. Her body reacted as if she had been hit, butt tightening and body jerking away. Her hands gripped the post more intently than before.
"Perfect, slave. Its ok to react, as long as you also obey. While I doubt you've completely learned to obey me, you do deserve a reward for having accomplished this much is such a short time."
She clung numbly to the post as he stepped briefly into her bathroom and return to kneel behind her. The sudden coldness of the sweet lotion he gently began applying to her reddened posterior was a welcome relief. He worked his way down her right side, waist to knees. Her rosy backside was no longer fire engine red. The heat and pain were almost gone.
Suddenly, it was over. He pried her fingers from the post. She fell to her knees in front of his still kneeling form. He drew her to him, reaching around her body and holding her ass in his cool, massive hands. After a moment, he held her out from him and gazed with loving eyes on the shape of her body. Then he pulled her back to him and began to rub his pelvis against her. Bending his head down, he brushed his lips against her forehead, eyes and over the tip of her nose. He cupped her head in his hands, repeating the kisses, pressing his hardness against her belly. His eyes locked onto hers, commanding her to be still and listen to his deep but excited voice.
"I want you. I want to have you. I want to feel you hot, all around me. I want to bring you to pleasures you have never dreamed of."
More kisses. He removed his jeans, and his prick pressed against her. Hands holding her. The sting still a bright color. The collar and teaching thong pressed against her neck. Her will deserted her. "I own you. You submit to my wishes because you can do nothing else. Tell me what you want."
A tongue running over her lips. She opened them to respond to his command and received a long, deep, probing kiss. One of his hands gently caressed and massaged her lower back, the other her buttocks, as he pressed her to his warm, furry body. He placed her arms around his body, anchoring them on his behind and used them to draw the two bodies into one.
His shaft was pinned between their two bellies. Her tits were crushed into his chest. He began rocking his hips against her in rhythm with the grasping of his hand and the probing of his kiss.
After a few minutes, he pulled away a bit and softly whispered into her ear, "You are a slave? You will submit to me. Tell me."
"Yes, Master, I am a slave. I'll submit to you. Just take me now, please." There was no denying the urgency in her shaking voice.
"Even this?" he queried, producing the blindfold.
For an answer, she plucked it from his hands and refastened it over her own eyes. "Yes, Master, please, Master," she begged as she held out both arms.
"Climb up," he said, turning her toward the bed and she hastened to do just that. Her mind turned to primitive thoughts, her body pulsed, responding to his as he enveloped her with his very essence.
The world fell away from her bed. They were alone in the universe as at last their bodies received release.
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