At last, her patience was rewarded. One week to the day from when she wrote, Sarah found an envelope waiting for her. It was addressed in a neatly handwritten script to Ms. Sarah Hamilton. Clutching it tightly in her hand as she rode the elevator, Sarah dashed into her apartment. Willing herself to calm down, she sat at her little kitchen table and eagerly opened the letter with trembling fingers.
Dear Sarah,
I trust this familiar address will be acceptable to you, given the intimacies you have shared with me in your letter. (Here Sarah blushed, though she was alone.) I was quite pleased with your letter. You seem like an interesting and discerning young woman. I would like to begin a dialogue with you so we can get to know one another better. First of all, if you are agreeable, I would like for you to write to me again, and tell me precisely what you are looking for in a trainer. Upon receipt of your letter, I will write to you about my expectations of a novice. At that point, if we both agree that we seem suited to one another, I will accept you for training. I don't charge money for this training. It is my pleasure.
However, if I do accept you, the initial training period lasts for two weeks. I will require you to live at my house in Putnam County for those two weeks. During that time you may not leave, or make contact with the outside world.
This training I offer isn't about sex. At least not sex for its own sake. You should be very clear on that at the outset. This won't be a chance for you to live out your sexual fantasies. It will be a chance to be actually trained as a slave of the caliber that will allow you access to the finest Masters available. You probably won't be allowed to come during this period, unless I decide that it will somehow enhance your training. That in itself is a part of the training; it helps to teach self-control, and subjugation of your own needs to the whims of another.
At the end of the two weeks, you and I will decide if the training should be continued, or if you are ready to seek a Master. Think it over carefully, Sarah. If this suits you, write back to me and we will continue our dialogue.
Yours, Lawrence
Sarah reread the letter several times. Then she jumped up from her seat and began to pace the room. Noticing the time, she decided to head over to the gym for her exercise class. There she ran into Beth in the locker room. As they were changing, she mentioned, in as casual a voice as possible, “I answered one of the silly ads in that newsletter you gave me."
"No kidding,” Beth responded. “Good for you! Did you get an answer back?"
"Yes, actually. I am intrigued with this guy named Lawrence."
Beth stopped tying her shoes and looked up at Sarah. “Did you say Lawrence?"
"Yes. Do you know a Lawrence?"
"Slave trainer who lives upstate?"
"Yes, at least that's what he says.” Sarah was surprised that Beth had heard of him.
"Well, Sarah! You must have impressed him. He is only the most influential Dom in the scene. I know a woman who was trained by him—she can't keep the guys away. She was with one guy for quite a while, but then she decided to move on. She says that Lawrence gave her something. Grace, I think she said. And I kind of know what she means. She always seems so—I don't know—calm. Happy. Content. Hard to define, but she says Lawrence gave it to her.
"Slaves trained by him are known to have their pick of any Master they want. He is the cream of the crop, the crème de la crème. You have done well for yourself, little missy!"
Sarah was irritated with Beth's “little missy” remark, but was also pleased and excited to know that this Lawrence was important and renowned. As soon as class was over, she hurriedly showered, and with head still wet, dashed home to compose a response. As soon as she was done, she sealed it and dropped it in the mailbox in the lobby of her apartment building. She promised herself not to even think about receiving a reply until another week had passed. The next Saturday finally arrived. Sarah held her breath as she opened her mailbox.
It was there! A response. He had written back. Once safely in her apartment, she tore open the envelope and read:
My dear Sarah,
Thank you for your prompt response. Again, I was very pleased with what you wrote. I think we may have potential, you and I. I promised you that I would share some of my goals and dreams with you as well. Let me begin, then.
I am a slave trainer. I have trained perhaps thirty women and half again as many men...
Sarah's eyebrows rose as she read this.
...to go on to belong to other Masters. I myself do not own a slave at the present time.
"When did he?” she wondered aloud.
I don't do this for “fun.” This is not a kinky game I indulge in occasionally for sport. It is a part of me. I am Dominant by nature and I am naturally drawn to submissive women who understand the romance of erotic submission. I don't train my slaves to be mindless inflatable dolls who obey me as if they were robots; I train a slave to ultimately become someone's partner and lover, as well as slave. She must be someone who understands that through her subservience, she ultimately exalts both her Master and herself.
Understand that if you come to me for training, I won't be your Master. I won't be your lover. I will be your trainer. Sometimes, in my position as trainer, I may use you as a Master or a lover would. But don't be confused. At the end of your training, you are free to go. Indeed, I will insist that you do so. I am not seeking a lover. This must be clear to you at the outset so neither of us is misled or confused.
During the training period, I require absolute obedience. Failure to obey me without question is grounds for immediate dismissal. At the end of our two-week trial period, you may well be trained enough to seek a Master on your own. I will aid you in this process; I am well connected in our community. If you require refinement, we can still meet occasionally to complete your training.
If all of this sounds acceptable to you, you may call me on Sunday, February 15, at 2:00 in the afternoon, at the phone number listed just below my address on this letterhead.
I await your phone call with eagerness. However, if you choose not to call, I understand completely and hope we will meet someday under other circumstances.
Yours, Lawrence.
At precisely 2:00, Sarah dialed the phone number she had already committed to memory. After three rings, she heard his voice for the first time. She liked his pleasant baritone. They exchanged greetings. He praised her on the promptness of her call, remarking that it boded well for a would-be slave girl. Sarah blushed with pleasure at his remark.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Lawrence jumped to the heart of the matter. “I believe we have come to an understanding, Sarah. I am willing to take you on as a novice. When do you think you could arrange a vacation to visit me?"
Sarah's heart was pounding as she told him, “I have two weeks vacation. All I have to do is fill out a vacation-request slip at work, and I will be ready to present myself to you.” She felt slightly awkward using the term “present myself” but at the same time, curiously elated. This wasn't a game for him; she believed him about this.
"Very good. Call me when you are ready, and I shall prepare to receive you. Oh, and if you are not busy tonight, would you care to meet for dinner at Victor's?"
Victor's was a five-star establishment located on Manhattan's posh Upper East Side. Sarah had heard of it, but never thought she would ever get to go there. She told him she was available and looked forward to meeting him at last. They agreed on 8:00 and said good-bye. The afternoon passed with Sarah trying on every outfit she owned several times. At last, she settled on a modest but close-fitting black silk dress. It looked Chinese, with the high collar and a teasing slit up the thigh. Sheer black stockings and medium-heeled black leather pumps completed the outfit. She swept her hair up into a French twist and secured it with a small gold comb set with seed pearls that had belonged to her grandmother. Around her neck, a single strand of graduated pearls directed one's eye subtly to her lovely breasts. Light makeup and red lipstick completed her en
semble. She was pleased with the effect, aware that he would be pleasantly surprised after having only seen a snapshot of her dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt.
At 7:30, Sarah called a cab. She arrived at Victor's about ten minutes early. Not sure if she should wait outside or in, she entered the restaurant and sat at the bar to order a drink.
She looked around as casually as she could for someone who might be Lawrence. She realized she had no idea what he looked like. For all she knew, he was a fat, hairy man with tattoos and no teeth. She reminded herself that it didn't really matter; he was to be her trainer, not her lover.
At that moment, Lawrence entered the restaurant. He saw her immediately, sitting on the barstool, her profile to him as she sipped her drink. He stood for a moment by the door, just taking her in. Then something told her to turn, and she looked at him straight on. She knew at once it was he, Lawrence.
Smiling, he walked over to her and held out his hand. She took it, expecting to give him a firm handshake, but was instead surprised by his raising her hand to his lips. He kissed it gently and let it fall as he looked into her eyes. Sarah was enchanted. Her ogre had turned out to be an enchanted prince.
He was tall and slim, dressed in a very fine camelhair overcoat. His dark hair was thick and wavy and looked as if it might get unruly if tousled. His nose was the only imperfect feature on his face. It was large and slightly crooked, as if it had been broken, and kept him from being too perfect. It suited him somehow. His complexion looked to be naturally fair, but he was tanned at the moment, which set off his green eyes to advantage. Sarah was smitten.
"A pleasure to meet you at last, Sarah,” he said, as he held out his hand to her. She took it and stood up from her barstool. Together they walked to the dining room, where they were seated at once. With her permission, Lawrence ordered for the two of them. The food was delicious; though, if asked afterward, Sarah wouldn't have been able to tell what she had eaten. For the first time in a very long while, Sarah felt uncertain about her own charms. She knew only that Lawrence was the most exciting man she had ever met. She ate very little, but he didn't seem to notice.
They talked idly of this and that, both seeming to avoid the topic at hand. Sarah almost feared that bringing the conversation around to her training would cause him to turn back into the frog he must surely be. Several times she caught him staring at her in a way that made her flush and look away.
Finally, over their dessert of raspberries and cream, Lawrence began to discuss the training. “I must remind you, Sarah,” he began, “that this is most emphatically not a game. I take what I do very seriously, and so better had you, if you want to succeed. It won't be easy, and it won't always be fun. You will be trained and disciplined as you have never dreamed possible. Think of it rather as a BDSM boot camp, if you like. I am your sergeant for the next two weeks. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I do. Um. Excuse me for asking, but what do I call you?"
"Call me? Oh, you mean as in “Master” or “Lord Lawrence” or some such nonsense? You may call me “Lawrence.” I don't particularly like those formal forms of address. I find them rather artificial.” Sarah was quite pleased with this response, as she felt the same way.
Lawrence continued, “My place is about an hour and a half from the city. You can take the train for most of the way. I will meet you at the station and take you from there to my place. Do you still want to come?"
"Oh, yes!” she breathed.
"Then it's settled. And now, it's getting late, and I have a long drive ahead of me. I look forward to seeing you again soon!” So saying, he paid the check and escorted her from the restaurant. Putting her in a taxi, he paid the driver in advance and sent her on her way.
Sarah stayed up most of the night thinking about Lawrence and what he offered. Was this finally her chance of a lifetime? To explore her dreams? To fulfill her destiny? What if he turned out to be another bastard like James? A bully posing as a Dom? But no, she knew even before the thought had formed itself, that that was not the case. There was a certain quality to Lawrence. A goodness—she didn't know a better way to describe it. She could feel his decency radiate from him. And his power. He was dominant, but kind. He was sure of himself, but not arrogant.
There was something else about him—something she hadn't quite put her finger on. Though he smiled and laughed often during their phone conversations and over dinner, there was a sadness in his eyes. He looked like a man who had suffered, who had known loss. But maybe she was just imagining it—she was always seeing romance and fairy tales in the humdrum of every day. Perhaps it was just the schoolgirl romantic in her that was imagining that her prince had some deep, dark secret that only she, his chosen princess, could save him from.
Laughing out loud at her silliness, Sarah fell asleep at last. Her dreams were laden with silk and chains, perfumed with the promise of romance.
Two days later, Lawrence received a phone call. Sarah had arranged for a two-week vacation and would be waiting for him at the station the following afternoon, if that was convenient. As the train pulled into the station with a hydraulic whistle, he was waiting on the platform. He moved forward to greet the pretty young woman who stepped from the train, bags in hand. As he took her valise and other baggage from her, he smiled at her several pieces of luggage. He remarked cryptically that he doubted she would be needing much of it.
They were both rather quiet as he drove her to his country home. It was a lovely stone house, and Sarah was suitably impressed. Parking in the circular driveway, Lawrence got out and walked around the car to open Sarah's door. He carried in her things, leading the way into his home. Once in, he shut the large oak door and locked it.
Ignoring Sarah for the moment, Lawrence put her things down and hung up his overcoat. Then he turned to her and said, “Hang up your things in there,” pointing to the closet in the spacious front hall. “Then take your bags to your room. It is the first door on the right at the top of the stairs."
Sarah was surprised by this abrupt change in Lawrence. He no longer behaved like the courteous suitor she remembered from their dinner, but as ... well ... as if he owned her! Then she understood and, after hanging up her coat, she took her own bags to her room.
It was a nicely furnished, though rather small, bedroom. There was a large canopied bed in the center of the room, hung with lace and covered in a down quilt embroidered with flowers. There was a small wardrobe and a high bureau complete with an old-fashioned water pitcher and bowl. Just under a small, high window, sat an overstuffed little divan covered in pale blue-and-white striped silk. Sarah was delighted with the quaintness of the room. She dropped her things and sat upon the high bed, testing its mattress by bouncing a bit on it.
Sarah looked up as she heard Lawrence come to her door. He looked so handsome, standing there quietly, leaning slightly against the doorframe. He spoke matter-of-factly. “While you are here, I expect you to remain naked at all times, except when otherwise directed. I keep the house well heated, so you should be comfortable. You may hang your things in there.” He pointed to the wardrobe.
"The first thing I require is that you shower and perfume yourself appropriately. You will find everything you need in the bathroom that adjoins your room. When you are presentable, come to my study, which is two doors down from your bedroom. I'll wait for you there.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and was gone.
Sarah was completely taken aback. Naked! Just present herself naked—just like that? She wasn't dirty; she had showered only that morning. Julian, at least, always had her undress in front of him. He liked the eroticism of her little striptease. But this man just wanted her to appear before him, naked and literally wet behind the ears! She considered for an instant ignoring his demands and just going in to his study as she was. But she remembered he had told her she must obey him precisely. She decided to follow his instructions. Dutifully, she hung her clothing in the closet.
Once in the bathroom, however, she told her
self that it was absurd to shower again. Instead, she simply turned on the water, to make it seem as if she were showering. In the meantime, she freshened her makeup and dabbed on the perfume he had provided. When she decided enough time had passed, Sarah turned off the shower and used the towel to dry the tub, so that it would seem as if she had in fact dried herself with it.
She felt rather shy about going to him naked. But her several months with Julian had not been in vain. Spending so much time nude with him had at least desensitized her somewhat to her condition. Taking a last look in the mirror, Sarah left the bathroom and headed for Lawrence's study.
The door was ajar as she approached. Since he had already told her to come in, she entered silently and walked to the chair in which Lawrence was sitting. He dropped his newspaper to the side of the chair and looked up at her.
"Kneel,” he said. “I don't like to strain my neck.” Sarah at once dropped to her knees, feeling certain she was making a good impression on her trainer. He rose and walked around her slowly. Her arms were crossed behind her back as Julian had taught her to do. Lawrence leaned very close and seemed to be smelling her neck. She smiled, glad she had applied the perfume he had provided, as ordered. Then he reached out and touched her neck. Pursing his lips, he told her stand up at once. She did so, not certain she liked his tone of voice. Bending down, he touched the back of her knee.
"As I thought. You didn't shower! You directly disobeyed my express wish that you shower! Explain yourself at once."
Blushing in shame at having been discovered, Sarah could only stammer incoherently. Lawrence grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back down to her knees. “Answer!” he hissed in her ear. Stunned at such unexpected treatment from this heretofore gentle man, Sarah began to cry.
Sarah's Awakening Page 4