“Beautiful,” he says and turns me around again to face him. “Now hold onto my shoulders, sweetheart and put your foot on my knee.” Immediately I obey and using him for support I stand on one leg placing my bare foot on his knee. My toes look so dainty and small against the black expanse of his trouser leg.
He kisses me on the side of my knee and sucks in my skin there. His strong lips and teeth hurt exquisitely as I gasp again and look down to see the reddened hickey he made there.
“These are anklets,” he says picking up a dainty little silver-and-gold chain that shimmers in his giant hands. Little bells line its length emitting wonderful little chimes as he reaches down and puts it around my ankle.
"Now, the other one," he says and repeats the process on my other ankle. He gently places the big palm of his hand below my navel and guides me a few steps back. His voice is serious and very deep as he gives me his instructions.
"From now on, Lena, you are to never take off those anklets. Not unless I tell you to do so. Understood?”
“Yes, master.”
“Together with the chain around your waist they are going to forever stay on your body reminding you of your master. The little bells will announce your presence wherever you might be.”
“Yes, master.” I look down on these new additions to my body and cannot help but feel excited at the control my master has over me.
“One other thing, sweetheart. I want you to start tiptoeing when you walk or stand upright. It will be difficult at first, but I know you can do it." He reaches out and gently caresses the shins of my legs his hands possessively squeezing the delicate muscles between my heel and the back side of my knee there. “Your muscles here are not yet well developed and are still somewhat childish and small in appearance. With time you will see them gain prominence as you make an effort to stand on tiptoe whenever you walk. Okay?”
“Yes, master.”
He looks at me for a long while.
"Well, what are you waiting for?” He says and I breathe out a little exasperated sigh.
“You want me to stand on tiptoe for you now?” I ask in surprised disbelief.
“Why, yes, of course, sweetheart. I don't like you questioning me like that. In fact I think that your talking back to me merits a little punishment. Don't you?"
Oh God. No. My mind suddenly flies back to that first day when he took me downstairs in his basement and flogged me mercilessly across my butt and belly with his paddle. The bruises healed eventually but I still feel the pain in my mind.
"No, master. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk back like that. I was just…"
He lifts a finger in the air and looks at me sternly making the words die on my lips. I know any pleadings from now on will be pointless . He has made a decision. There is nothing I can do. I take a deep breath and feel my body start to tremble.
“Go to the kitchen and bring me a bottle of virgin olive oil. Then, lie down on your tummy, slave.”
With a little whimper I rush to follow his order. I prostrate myself on the shiny hardwood floor at his feet whimpering as I feel the cold wood press up against my quivering belly and sensitive nipples.
“Normally I would use a birch switch for this," he says. "But today I am in a hurry and so my hand will have to suffice. Turn around and scoot over so that your feet are close to where I sit.”
“Come, sweetheart. Scoot back and lean forward on your knees. Place your face sideways on the floor and lean your chest down. I want you to place most of your weight on your breasts as you lift up your butt and ankles and scoot back on your knees. There almost perfect. Now put your hands out in front of you, palms down on the floor. Perfect.” I whimper softly as I hear him open the bottle of olive oil.
***
Master:
My beautiful Lena is the picture of submission as she lies there on the floor — prostrate and whimpering submitting herself to whatever punishment I am about to administer.
“I will now use my hands to rub in some of the olive oil in the soles of your feet.” Her toes curl in anxiety and the tiny bells of her gold anklets chime delectably as the beautiful girl shivers in submission. My hands guide her feet leaning them back against my crotch as I slowly start rubbing in the oil.
Her skin is baby soft and tender. I feel my cock stir as my thumbs work the insole of her feet one after another. It will be her first punishment on that part of her body and I am sure it will leave a very long-lasting impression on her still childish mind.
“Tell me, Lena, why are you about to be punished?” I ask rubbing her cute little toes one after another. Soon her feet are pink and rosy and shining healthily, ready to be chastised.
“I-I spoke back at you, master,” comes her little voice racked by small and dainty sobs from where her face is pressed down against the floor at my feet where I'm sitting on the couch.
“Exactly right, sweetheart. And why is it that I do not tolerate insolence?”
“B-because you are my master…”
“And?”
“And my principal caregiver, and the only person who knows what is best for me.”
“Correct again, sweetheart. You will receive ten slaps with my hand on the heel and insoles of each foot. I will spare your toes and the balls of your feet as I want you to concentrate on walking on tiptoe throughout the day as you do your chores. I want you to thank me now.”
“T-thank you, master.” Lena says, her voice breaking with emotion.
“What are you thanking me for?”
“For-for sparing my toes and the balls of my feet?”
“That is exactly correct.”
Without further ado I strike the full force of my open hand against the heel of her beautiful soft pink little foot.
“Aiiieee, oh Gaaawd!” she screams. There is no sense in delaying the inevitable and I proceed to administer the remainder of her nine strikes on that foot before kissing it and resuming the punishment on her other leg. It doesn't take long, perhaps less than five minutes, but at the end Lena is crying like a little baby, her tears puddling beneath her face on the hardwood floor.
“There, sweetheart. You did beautifully. You are my strong little girl. Turn around and come to me so I can hug you and tell you how much I love you.”
I wait patiently for my beautiful little submissive to gather herself up from the floor and scoot around to crawl into my lap. I hug her tight and cover her face in kisses.
“We will wait to open the other boxes. I think you have been through enough as it is today,” I say. “The only other gift I will insist we put to use is in box number two. The rest can wait.”
“Thank you, master she hiccups against my chest where she snuggles up against me tightly. As I reach down to open the package, I see her eyes grow enormous as I unveil its contents.
“Do you know what this is?”
“No, sir, I don’t,” she says in a hollow voice her eyes scanning the glass cylinders with the little rubber and plastic valves on top.
“Here, let me show you,” I say and place the open side of one of the cylinders across her puffy pink little areola. With a twist and a turn I deftly secure the suction cup there and use a syringe from the box to evacuate the air within. Her little face scrunches up as her breast is sucked up into the now vacuumed-out space of the glass cup.
“This is called a suction cup. It will help your breasts grow and develop the way I want.”
“Unghh… It is not very comfortable, master,” she moans, her hands gently supporting the weight of the heavy glass cylinder affixed to her right breast that is now obscenely sucked into a cone within its confines.
“I know sweetheart. It will be somewhat unpleasant for you but I want you to submit yourself to the discomfort and do it for me. Can you do that?”
She takes a deep breath and finally nods.
“Good girl. I know you can. Now let's do repeat that with your left breast and I will be off to work. Remember, try to walk on tip toes as you go about your chores today and I will be back
to relieve the tension from your beautiful titties before you know it.”
She gasps loudly this time as I place the suction cup on her left breast and repeat the procedure sucking in her puffy nipple deeply inside. I kiss her panting lips and use the last ounces of my willpower to draw myself away from the beautiful virgin suffering for me in submission on the couch.
Two Weeks Later
Master:
We are out visiting the grand opening of an art exhibit of a good friend of mine downtown when Lena's milk comes in.
The art in question is of the conventional type — oil-on-canvas and mixed media even though its subject tends to be on the raunchy side. It all happens when Lena has planted herself in front of a particularly erotic work depicting a not-so-virginal Mary losing herself to some rather carnal worship by the twelve apostles, all done quite masterfully in the old Dutch style reminiscent of Rembrandt.
Lena is wearing high heels and a delicious little black dress that merely serves to excite and exacerbate the ravenous hunger of any and all male attendees that happen to glance on my beautiful and very virginal charge.
I am pretending to listen to a rather dry and boring lecture on the abysmal state of modern art in our country from one of the charmingly conflicted attendees. Luckily the elderly widow happens to get more and more carried away with her own point and so does not see my eyes stray over to the twenty-year-old virgin behind her. My mind dances with ideas about how Lena’s gentle soft skin would feel against me when I inevitably take her to bed later that night.
I am so lost in my own thoughts that I almost fail to notice her sudden blush and mortified expression as she looks down at her own chest. Her beautiful full lips part and even at a distance I can hear her gasp. I can’t quite make out what says but then she turns and I know.
Time has come for me to take matters in hand and to get Lena out.
“Mrs. Havensham,” I say looking down at the octogenarian’s taught face. I’m sure she is the pride of the local crème de la crème in plastic surgery. Her twinkling eyes and lively glances notwithstanding, her face is sure to make many an Egyptologist proud. "It is a shame, an absolute shame isn't it?” I say and quickly keep on talking, "Unfortunately I my pager buzzed. I’m wanted at the hospital. But I definitely want to talk with you some more about that project of yours. I seriously think our city and especially our up-and-coming neighborhoods would benefit from a more lively art scene. I would love to touch base with you later and see what we can do to help your foundation."
“Oh, Dr. Branigan you're such a sweetheart.” Her voice becomes husky all of a sudden and out of nowhere I have the unwelcome vision of Mrs. Havensham wearing a strap on.
I have to leave now!
“Why oh why didn't I meet you at least ten years ago?” She says shaking her head in remorse. “I would have had so much fun wooing you into my life, sweet boy.”
I shudder and hope to God she doesn’t notice. Then I kiss her waxy forehead. I wonder if any nerve endings are still alive there as I bid the heiress good night. I lunge forward and grab Lena's hand dragging her towards the door. I wrap my arm around her waist fearing the inevitable faint I know might come any time.
“Come, Lena, we must go,” I whisper through clenched teeth as I guide her to the exit.
“I-, I am leaking!” she whispers, her sparkling blue eyes big as saucers as she clearly is unable to make sense of her own words. “My boobs are leaking. How is that even possible?” she whispers.
My poor little Lena if you only knew how much more is possible.
“Shhhh, little one. Everything is going to be fine. Come. I'll drive you home.” I help her semi-catatonic body into the passenger seat of my champagne-colored Bentley. The valet I had previously tipped with a crisp Ben Franklin has already brought it out waiting for me. I sit in the driver’s seat and I revv the twelve cylinder monster to life.
Downtown breezes past like a Star Wars hyperdrive, its city lights – contrails along the tinted windows of my car. I drive home at top speed, all the while gently rubbing soothing circles along the inner thigh of my beautiful submissive.
***
Lena:
I remember nothing of the drive. It is as if my mind has short-circuited somewhere and is locked into a stupor that doesn't begin to lift until my master finally ushers me into the safety of our home and I hear the melodious click of the door close behind me.
I stumble and fumble and almost trip but Dr. Branigan's strong arms hold me up. I go through the motions of undressing like an automaton on autopilot. I wiggle my feet out of the six inch Manolo Blahniks and pick up and lift my dress over my head and off my body dropping it to the floor.
The only sound in the room is my labored breathing and the chime of my anklet bells as I finally find my footing on the cold cement floor. I have no panties to take off and no bra either. There hasn't been a need for either in a long time. Not since master has made it clear how unpredictable and unyielding his requests to grab a feel of my nakedness can be.
I look down and see a little white droplet of what can only be milk perched atop my upturned nipple. Like in a dream I bring my fingers to it and then lick it off my hand tasting myself.
“I really don't understand,” I say but then I realize that I do.
"The injections," I whisper. My master is silent, his face severe, but in his dark eyes I see I am right.
“Why?” This one word keeps flashing in my mind like a glaring neon sign that I can see all too clear through the fog of innocence.
“Why?!” I hiss and for the first time I realize I am angry like I have never been before in my life.
But master does not answer me. Instead, he merely crosses his arms, big and heavy like the limbs of a tree, in front of his chest and smirks down on me. I lunge at him and pound my fists against his immovable bulk like a wave against a cliff but with less effect as I slowly lose balance and tumble to the ground sniveling with rage. He snorts and walks off and soon I hear him making himself a martini. Extra dry with a twist of lime. I know because I have made it for him countless times before.
“Why!!!!” I scream, the keening vowel reverberating from the crystal in the room, but he ignores me as he makes for his bedroom. There shall be no answers tonight.
Just questions and frustration.
***
Master:
It is all I can do to pretend that I'm stoic and strong when in fact my heart is being rendered in two by the vision of my beautiful girl tearing herself emotionally apart like that.
It is a necessary evil I know, and yet, I so wish that cup of bitterness had somehow avoided me. Alas, it is not to be for a slave has to learn to surrender and submit and a master needs to know to be strong. Especially when she's weak and lost.
I sleep little that night. I toss and turn throwing away the assaults of guilt and weakness until a restless slumber overcomes me. At about three in the morning a loud noise of broken glass shatters my nightmares and I look at the night clock — 3:12 AM. More breaking plates and shattered crystal, and cries, and loud whimpers, and curses even. I turn around and seek after my last thought following it across the valley of darkness into dreamland.
When I wake up again a short hour later, I walk out my bedroom to find Lena curled up sleeping naked and disheveled on the floor by the door. My kitchen looks like a category five tornado stopped by and spent many hours shattering anything breakable and grinding the rest to splinters. I make a mental note to look up the number of my favorite interior design people and schedule an appointment. It was time to remodel the kitchen anyway.
Next, I scoop up the sleeping terror from the floor. Her body is covered in sweat and her chest — in a thin sheen of white milk but she remains sleeping and merely mumbles a soft nothing that sounds suspiciously a lot like an obscenity as I carry her gingerly over to my bed. I kiss her forehead and swaddle her in like a baby and bid her good night as I settle in to wait for her re-awakening.
My beautiful Prince
ss doesn't wake up until mid-afternoon. The sun is already tinged with flecks of pink and rose when her eyes flutter open and settle on mine. Her breathing is deep and measured making her chest swell like the rolling waves of a deceptively pacified ocean.
***
Lena:
I look at him sitting there within my reach in the twilight of dusk that envelops him as I search out his dark bottomless eyes. In them I see tenderness beyond words. I still simmer with anger that he didn't ask me first, but I also feel painful tendrils of guilt shoot through my belly. How could I have been so selfish? Can I really be angry with the one person in my life who deeply cares for me and dotes over my every heartbeat?
“Are you still angry?” he asks.
I nod my head in the affirmative but my conflicted emotions make me want to hide in the bedsheets. Slowly like a rerun on some otherworldly sports channel, my master stands and peels off his shirt revealing his grizzly physique of knotted muscles and thick scars that crisscross his big chest. Then he undoes his belt and allows it to fall to the side as his pants pool at his ankles. I blush deeply for I have not yet had an opportunity to get quite accustomed to the beastiality of my his body.
I shy back into the warm confines of his large bed as a thin keening sound escapes my throat. Even though he shed his clothes, I still feel unusually naked and exposed beneath his icy stare.
Slowly, he climbs in the bed moving in between my legs, his hands sliding up and down spreading them wider and wider. I feel myself pushed into the mattress as he lays atop me, his tongue sensuously sliding against mine as my mouth eagerly opens to accept his hungry kiss.
My hands slide around him as I moan and stroke feeling myself get lost in the seductive pleasure of his body.
It is the first time he covers me on top like that and I whimper at the realization that perhaps now will be that moment of exquisite finality that I have so eagerly waited for. I am wet and dripping, my sex vibrating with anticipation as I feel his lips lave my mouth and then move to gently seek out my puffy nipples where he draws in a first delectable suckle.
Lena’s Journey, Volumes One through Seven Page 10