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    That was
not
what she wanted, although it was a wise move on his part, since she was having such a difficult time pretending that Alain Danvers meant nothing to her.

The Friday night initiation was something else. While her edgy nerves were almost destroyed by the time she arrived, there was no need to hide anything now. No one would be staring at them with curious eyes or wondering expressions.

    On Meredith's arrival, Alain immediately led her into the living room where they shared a drink, although it was obvious that the submissive Meredith was too nervous for casual conversation.

    "Why don't you stand up?" he said at last. Setting his empty Scotch glass on the table, he moved to his feet. Then for a moment or two he appraised her, letting his eyes survey her lovely assets. She was already breathing a bit erratically and when he stepped directly in front of her he felt her tremulous shiver. When he gently lifted her sweater away from her shoulders, he sensed that she was about to cry from excitement.

    He undressed her personally, which he always thought was a particularly intimate way of taking the reins of a new submissive. If it didn't make them wet with arousal, then there was definitely going to be a problem. After so many years of a vanilla life, except for his brief scenes with Janis, the protocols were returning with ease, along with his innate desire for domination, which surfaced so naturally that he wondered why he'd let it lag for so long. There was no problem with it surfacing in the presence of Meredith Shaw.

    As she stood before the fire in his living room, he let her blue cardigan drop to the floor and then slowly unbuttoned her blouse, all the while staring into her sultry eyes. He watched as she nervously bit her lip when he brushed her hair from her face. When she tried to bow her head in embarrassment, he raised her chin, keeping her faltering gaze on him.

    "You're going to do just fine, Miss Shaw," he told her, as he tugged her blouse away.

    While she might have previously endured such careful scrutiny of her naked body, the intimacy in play as he undressed her was real enough to taste. He could feel her heart beating, and her moist breath; her flowery aroma was good enough to taste. He reached around her, drawing her closer still in order to unzip the straight black skirt. With one daring sweep of his hand, the slip of material lay discarded on the floor and Meredith Shaw was standing just inches from him, dressed in nothing but her black lace bra and panties.

    As his warm fingertips grazed the tops of her breasts, he felt a substantial shudder rise up through her body. He made quick work of her bra clasp, baring her breasts to his admiring eye, then with no warning, abruptly slipped her panties down her hips.

    Inspecting her with his hands brought a new appreciation of her physical assets. Her womanly curves, the firm, tight breasts and button nipples; and further downward, the gentle swell of her hips, the tempting 'V' between her legs, and that sensuous rise of her mons with its delicate furrow at her sex lips just a dark runway of trimmed pubic hair. Although every inch of her body thrilled him, her willingness to submit emboldened him even more.

    When he placed the collar around her neck, and the cuffs on her feet and wrists, announcing that she'd wear these all weekend and nothing else, she melted further into the experience, looking as desirous and happy as he'd ever seen her.

    "Turn around now and let me see you," he ordered. He stepped back and watched her quick obedience. "Now your hands behind your head and turn again."

    Everything was to perfection as if she'd rehearsed it. Maybe in her mind she had a thousand times. He could be nothing but respectful of the desire that fueled this moment; it certainly hadn't been his. The irony inherent in the dominant submissive paradox was keenly on his mind when he took up the small braided whip he used to further ensure the young woman's surrender. The sound of the leather striking skin, followed by her dancing steps, her pained grimace and the determination in her expression caused a new wave of cruelty to surface in his reborn dominant psyche. He laid into her hard because that was what pleased them both. She cried when she couldn't contain herself, then paid for it with a thwack so hard across her thighs that she nearly doubled over.

    But she righted herself again, as good submissives will do, trembling before him with her pussy glistening wet with arousal.

    "Enough for now," he tossed the whip aside. "Come here." He backed away and moved to his chair. "Sit down and don't look so nervous."

    She giggled sweetly, sitting down at his feet, then listened with a cautious ear as he gave her his instructions for the evening. She'd serve him drinks, make him dinner and then they'd spend the final hours of the day more intimately engaged. He planned to make it up as he went, remembering the scripts he'd once faithfully followed, which seemed more like guidelines for sadomasochistic pleasure now. How they mingled pain with pleasure would depend more on his mood. He was an older man now and his tastes had changed over time, even though the basic desires never would.

***

The crash came from the vicinity of the kitchen and brought her master flying from the living room.

    "What the hell?" He gazed down at the broken dishes that covered the hall just outside the kitchen. She'd slapped her hand over her mouth to contain her frightened scream, then looked up at him with tears welling in her deep chestnut brown eyes. Up until this time, she'd managed to please him perfectly despite her continuing nerves. However, those nerves began to fray as she tried to make him breakfast and found herself failing miserably. She hated breakfast, and knew nothing about frying bacon and eggs.

    "I'm so sorry, sir." Getting her wits about her, she dropped to her knees and began to sweep the broken pieces into a pile with her hand.

"Good god, what are you doing, Miss Shaw?"

She wiped the tears from her face, but simply couldn't stop them.

"What is going on?"

"I'm so sorry."

    "Get up," he took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet, "And for god's sake be careful as you walk."

    She gingerly stepped around the mess as he led her into his den, where he sat her down on one leather chair and he sat on another facing her.

    "First, you tell me why you're nervous. I want everything out in the open. This won't work if you're scared."

    "I am scared. I'm afraid you'll send me away."

    "Why would I do that?"

    "Because you think I'm a miserable failure."

    He shook his head in amazement, smiling kindly. "You're not a miserable failure, Meredith, you're simply misdirected, and that's what I'm here to help you with. If you want our agreement to work, you have to stop being so timid. Get back to being that forthright young woman who knocked on my door, seeking my dominant services."

    "I never believed you'd actually agree to anything. Not really."

    "So, that was just an exercise in bravery?"

    "Maybe."

    "But you do want a Dom? You do want me?"

    "Oh, yes, sir," she practically came out of her chair, then caught herself and settled back down. "I just don't think I can. I ruined your breakfast. I'm a terrible cook…" she was about to run on…

    Which was something he actually found quite charming, in its place.

    He laughed. "So what if you're not a very good cook. I'm not either. But I can make a decent breakfast, and you can certainly clean the floor. We'll take care of this together,
after
I punish your sorry ass – what you're obviously asking for."

    "Yes, sir." She was still nervous…the word punish immediately triggered another spike of fear, and that lusciously painful arousal that always stirred her basest instincts.

    Thankfully, Alain didn't make her wait. He abruptly drew her over his knee and started smacking her bottom, giving it a good vigorous spanking, until both ass cheeks were blushing red and she was groaning from the erotic pleasure that rose up through the pain. She wiggled against him, feeling his cock stiffen inside his pants. She'd spent the entire night chained to the bed in the maid's room, thinking about that cock and how dearly she wanted to be impaled by its ferocity. But he didn't come for her. Maybe he was testing her, teasing her. Regardless, waiting was sheer torture. He'd deliberately bound her in such a way that there was no possibility that she could get herself off with her hand. She was surprised that she even slept. Although she had – quite soundly.

    No wonder why she was so nervous trying to cook. If she was completely unsuited for her job at the police station, she was even more unsuited as a cook and housekeeper. Knowing that he'd see this right away made her practically panic.

    She was so aroused by the time she went over his lap that she was nearly orgasmic the moment he laid on that first smack. She was glad he didn't let up, or massage her bottom even the least little bit. Just one hard smack after another kept the pain high enough so she wouldn't spontaneously get off. She'd be so embarrassed if she did.

    When her master was finally finished, he set her on her feet and spoke to her calmly. "Go get the broom. And don't you dare crawl over that broken glass. I'll get started in the kitchen."

    For the first time since she'd been in her master's house, she breathed easily.

***

After a cool and dreary Saturday, Sunday morning dawned sunny and clear. The warm air of the early autumn felt good against their faces as the two made their way along a trail behind Alain's house – an open space of thick woods and a path that led toward a sparkling pond. They were early enough to be alone that morning and walked hand in hand.

    He'd given her a skirt and t-shirt to wear, although she walked barefoot like a slave would.

    The touch of his hands still made her shiver, even now, even after she'd felt those hands abuse her. Even after feeling them slap her ass with ruthless passion and grab her ass cheeks hard from behind when he screwed her, she still treasured their feel. The way they walked holding hands only enhanced the almost giddy feeling she enjoyed in his presence. His aura closed in around her. Protective. Gentle. Firm and sure.

    Although he insisted that she be carefully prudent – as with the broken glass – he didn't seem to mind that her feet hurt as she walked the uneven path.

    "Ouch!" she jerked when her foot clipped the edge of a branch.

    "Watch where you're going," he said curtly.

    "You know this isn't very easy," she blurted out.

    "As if that's my problem."

    And they kept on moving, deeper into the woods, until he stopped with no warning and pushed her against the back of a scratchy tree. Holding her hands in his above her head, he leaned down, pressing his lips against her mouth. She immediately melted against him, her body pressing back, her groin reaching for his, her breath already short.

    He stepped back and pulled the sexy tank top down, exposing her breasts and her hardened nipples. She stiffened anxiously and gazed around.

    "Look at me, Meredith."

    She looked, painfully aware of the feelings that tripped through her body.

    "Now lift your skirt."

    She chilled at the thought of exposing herself in the out-of-doors. Even if the place seemed secluded, it was public property where any minute some stranger might arrive on their scene. Her reluctance showed and it cost her.

    "If you won't lift it then you can take it off." He wasn't very nice.

    "But we're…"

    "Take off your skirt, Meredith. Now!" his voice brittle and punishing.

    So scared that she was nearly in a panic, she closed her eyes and pushed the light-weight skirt to the ground, while shouting inside her mind, pl
ease please, don't make me do this!

    Of course, he couldn't hear her, but he could sense the distress in her worried expression.

    "Very good."

    When she opened her eyes, he was smiling drolly. "Was that so difficult?"

    "I'm scared."

    "You think I'm going to let anyone hurt you?"

"No, sir."

"Trust. It's something you need to develop."

"Yes, sir."

    "Now, you can pull the skirt back up, as long as you lift it as I asked in the first place."

    There was some relief to be covering her lower body, but of course, when she lifted her skirt she was still open to the world around her and those unseen eyes who stared.

    He noted her obedience saying, "Now, play with yourself."

    Her eyes opened shocked. "Oh, but what if someone sees?!"

    "Then you'll stop and we'll move on. Don't balk again, or I'll strip you completely myself and we'll start all over."

    She didn't doubt that for a minute, and so her hand moved between her legs where the juice of her pussy had gathered, then to the folds of her aroused flesh, the sex lips and the opening between them.

    "It won't take long," she found herself informing him. The first spasms were already beginning to make her body writhe.

    "I didn't say come. Exercise a little restraint, Meredith. You behave yourself or I'll switch your ass right here." He watched her eyes stray nervously about the clearing and added, "And look at me while you're getting off."

    Gazing at her master's implacable face made it impossible to succeed as he desired. How could she possibly hold back her desire when that desire was clawing at her insides, determined to be freed. She rubbed her pussy as he instructed, being very careful at first to contain the mounting energy rather than expel it. When she closed her eyes unthinkingly, her mind began to float on its own and she heard him snap: