First Meeting - Chapter 11
by SusieQ

Morning arrived with the buzzing of the doorbell.

"Michael," Sasha whispered loudly, "someone's at the door."

"It's Abigail," Michael mumbled sleepily.

The bell rang again and Sasha kicked back the covers.

"She has a key," Michael muttered, pulling the blankets back up over them both.

"Michael......." Sasha huffed.

"Ssssh," he hushed, and wrapped his arm around her waist, nestling her warm bottom in against himself.

"Hummmmm...... you feel good," Sasha giggled, and settled back enjoying the feel of his arms around her. "What are you going to do today while we shop?"

"Oh, I don't know," Michael considered, gently rolling Sasha's nipples between his fingers. "I have a few errands to run."

Michael's erect penis butted against the small of Sasha's back, and she intentionally began to wormed around in his arms. Finally, Michael took her shoulder and turned her to face him, kissing her devouringly. His fingers trailed down her slender arm, and taking her hand he guided it to himself. Sasha's lips formed a smile around his lustful kiss as she eased his erect penis between her thighs. Michael inhaled erotically as Sasha's excitment wet the head of his cock. Drawing her close, his lean body moved to cover hers, his strong arms supporting his weight as he pressed his pelvis against that small curly patch of auburn hair.

Michael then lifted himself up until he almost withdrew from Sasha's pussy, towering above her; waiting. Sasha's hips immediately arched upward, trying to force him back inside. With a mischievous grin, Michael buried his cock deep into her pussy.

"Oooohh," Sasha moaned, grasping Michael's muscular buttocks.

Michael's slow, teasing strokes quickly intensified, and Sasha wrapped her legs up over his back, rounding her bottom so his balls slapped against her ass. Sasha tightened her thighs and asscheeks, undulating in sync with Michael. Within moments Michael's climax was imminent.

"Be still," Michael breathed in her ear as his own orgasm converged in his groin, then traveled down the shaft of his penis, releasing spurts of cum into the softness that surrounded his cock. It was two full minutes before Micheal had completely satisfied himself, and his moist, naked body relaxed atop Sasha's.

"Woman, you're going to be the death of me," Michael panted, and lifted himself up, holding his pose above Sasha. "Now, go fix my breakfast."

"Michael, I have to get ready to go," Sasha fussed trying to squirm out from under him.

"You need to fix my breakfast. The stores will still be there an hour from now."

"But Michael, Abigail is waiting on me!" Sasha protested.

"Abigail has already got the coffee going, I can smell it," Michael stated matter-of- factly, "that is not her responsibility."

Michael's deep blue eyes gazed into Sasha's, analyzing her reaction. Sasha stared back in waiting silence. Gradually, the beginnings of a smile touched the corners of her mouth.

"Breakfast," Sasha whispered, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Um huh," Michael agreed, "breakfast."

"I see. And what exactly would my Master be desiring I prepare for his breakfast?" Sasha asked, trying not to giggle.

"Bacon and eggs."

"And toast?" Sasha asked, her hazel eyes twinkling.

"Um huh," Michael agreed as he pressed his lips to hers.

"May I pee first?" Sasha requested, looking as serious as possible

Michael bumped his forehead against Sasha's, "Yes," he hissed playfully, "go pee first." Giggling, she quickly slid out from beneath him, and disappeared into the bathroom.

When Sasha emerged from the bathroom her sweater was draped over her arm, and she was buttoning her jeans.

"What are you doing?" Michael questioned. The tone of his voice was oddly disconcerting, and when Sasha looked up she could see the disapproval in his deep blue eyes.

"Getting dressed," Sasha ventured.

"Did I say get dressed, or did I say fix my breakfast?" Michael asked in the same odd, disapproving tone.

Sasha, bare from the waist up, stopped in the center of the room.

"Jeans off," Michael ordered.

"But Abigail is here........" Sasha muttered uneasily.

"Abigail has seen you naked before," Michael countered.

Sasha winced at the thought of being naked as she slowly unfastened her jeans. Michael lay watching, remembering one specific conversation where Sasha mentioned her self-consciousness.

........ Michael had instructed her to purchase a swimsuit that was a skimp strapless top and t-back bottoms. She was then to go to the public beach on a Saturday and spend the day sunbathing. Sasha acknowledged that she understood, then changed the subject. Michael could tell something was on her mind; generally, Sasha was bubbly and very inquistive. He decided to continued chatting for a few minutes, allowing Sasha time to build up the courage to discuss whatever was bothering her. Then he would insist she tell him what was on her mind. It didn't take long for Sasha to open up.

"Master, may I discuss something with you?" Sasha asked softly.

"Yes you may, my pet," Michael's warm, interested voice urged.

"I know that my body is yours to look at and do with as you please, but to parade around in public with practically nothing covering me makes me very uncomfortable. Especially by myself."

"I see," Michael answered, "go on."

"Well, it's hard to explain. I like to think I'm pretty, but I also see all of my not so pretty spots. And well, clothes sort of hide those spots."

"Hummmm....... anything else?" Michael asked. There was a long pause, and Michael knew she was on the verge of tears.

"You're going to have me do this anyway, aren't you?" Sasha rasped into the receiver.

"Yes my pet, I am."

........Sasha removed her jeans, then laid them and her sweater over the footboard. Michael swung his feet to the floor, and sat on the edge of the bed, silently watching. Without looking up, Sasha turned toward the door. Michael reached out and caught her hand in his, turning her to face him.

"Bacon and eggs, right?" Sasha breathed, her eyes sparkling with tears as she gave a slight nod to her own question.

Michael stood, and taking Sasha's hand led her to his closet. Selecting a long sleeved, silk shirt he held it open for her. "Wear this," he sighed.

Sasha quickly slipped the shirt on. Michael was tall, and the tail of the shirt hit Sasha about mid thigh. Starting with the shirttail, Sasha watched herself as she pushed each obsidian button through a loop. Michael stopped her as she reached the fourth button from the collar, letting her know to leave the remainder of the shirt open.

"Now, go start my breakfast, while I shower."

"Thank you, Master," Sasha whispered, and with her head still lowered she turned for the door.

Before she could fully turn away, Michael's fingers caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. After the briefest of moments he kissed her tenderly.

"I want my eggs over easy," he ordered, giving her one of those *okay* looks.

"Okay," Sasha answered softly, and Michael's grip tighten on her jawline. "Yes Master," Sasha giggled, giving him an innocent grin.

Michael just shook his head as he watched her prance out the door.

Abigail was setting the table when Sasha walked in.

"Well, good morning," Abigail greeted. "It seems everything turned out all right after all last night."

"Yes Ma'am," Sasha said, grinning sheepishly.

"I'll have breakfast ready in a few minutes," Abigail commented, opening the refrigerator.

"Abi...Abigail," Sasha stuttered , as she neverously ran the top of her foot over the calf of the opposite leg, "Mmmmm.... Michael wants me to prepare his breakfast."

Abigail stood with the refrigerator door open studying Sasha thoughtfully for a moment. "Then we had best get started," Abigail advised. "The eggs are already on the stove. Here's the butter and strawberry perserves."

"You'll help me!" Sasha exclaimed.

"Of course," Abigail chuckled, "but we had better get busy. Michael does not like to be kept waiting."

"Yes Ma'am," Sasha responded enthusiastically, quickly taking the things as Abigail handed them to her.

The women chatted happily while Michael took his time in the shower, thinking back over the last fifteen or so hours. At the same time Abigail and Sasha were discussing events from the previous night.

"Abigail?" Sasha questioned, "who were those girls you introduced Michael to last night?"

"They were new submissives I've been training."

Sasha gave her a quizzical look. "But Michael said you belonged to his mother, that you were her most precious possession."

"I am and always will be Mistress Galiena's pet. During the years that she was a domme, and I a submissive, she nurtured me. I fell deeply in love with her, and served her and her family for many years. As I grew in my abilities, Galiena allowed me to assist her with various training techniques," Abigail elaborated, not really paying much attention to Sasha, who was standing stock still, totally bewildered. "Now, semi retired, Galiena has relenquished the major duties of training to me, as Johnathan also has to.........."

"Wait a minute!" Sasha exclaimed, finally recovering from Abigail's first sentence. "What are you talking about? Michael said, you belonged to his mother."

"Galiena is his mother," Abigail replied. "Didn't Michael tell you?"

"No, he didn't tell me!" Sasha yelped, stomping passed Abigail. "But he will be telling me now!"

Sasha stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Michael, just pulling on his shirt, spun around when the door banged shut. Sasha had already crossed the room and was standing within inches of him.

"Why didn't you tell me Mistress Galiena was your mother?" Sasha seethed, planting both palms in his chest and shoving.

"Whoa, calm down," Michael admonished, grabbing both her wrists.

"No! I will not calm down!" Sasha yelped, angrily tugging against his grip. "Let me go!"

In one fluid motion, Michael released Sasha's wrist and grasped a handful of auburn curls, yanking her back.

"Oh, yes.... you.... will," Michael warned, his whole demeanor growing in severity. "You'll calm down right now."

Michael held Sasha, breathless with rage, at arms length by the back of her head. He maintained his hold while Sasha twisted, kicked and stomped her feet. It took a long minute before the gravity of what she was doing hit her mind, then suddenly Sasha froze. Michael seized the moment and snatched her head back, forcing her to look at him.

Michael was mad. His eyes burned with impatience, the muscle at the back of his jaw twitched repeatedly, and his breathing was ragged and deep. Sasha's eyes slowly pooled with tears under Michael's punishing glare.

"Finish my breakfast," Michael ordered harshly, twisting Sasha around by her hair to face the door. "Now!" and he pushed her foward, releasing his hold.

Abigail again acted as if nothing had happened when Sasha returned to the kitchen.

"You'll need to set a place in the formal dining room for Michael to eat," Abigail instructed, "he perfers to eat his meals there."

Sasha did as she was told, and by the time she made it back Abigail had everything out and ready to begin cooking. Sasha had always been a good cook, and with tips from Abigail on Michael's likes and dislikes, breakfast was prepared. Sasha had planned on having the food on the table, then asking Abigail to notify Michael; that way she wouldn't have to face him. Unfortunately, just as she was about to walk into the dining room, Michael went in and sat down.

"Abigail, will you please take Michael's breakfast to the table," Sasha whispered, stepping away from the doorway. That same disapproving look Galiena had given her now clouded Abigail's face. "Please," Sasha pleaded.

Abigail picked up the tray and walked into the dining room.

"Where's Sasha?" Michael asked, his irriation obvious.

"She asked me to bring your breakfast," Abigail replied, setting the plate in front of him. Michael's glare became lethal with Abigail's evasive answer. "She's in the kitchen, Sir," Abigail corrected her response.

"SASHA!" Michael shouted. Sasha winced at the sound of his voice, took a deep breath,and stepped around the corner.

"I thought I told you to prepare my breakfast?" Michael raged.

"I did," Sasha answered resentfully.

"It is also your responsiblity to serve me. Why didn't you?"

Sasha stared at the floor as Michael waited, his blue eyes never leaving her for an instant. "Sasha, look at me!" Michael demanded angrily.

When Sasha's head came up, the corner of her mouth was turned down and her hazel eyes revealed the sad shrug she prevented her shoulders of displaying.

"Because you're mad at me," Sasha whimpered, gazing at him in despair.

"Because I'm mad at you, is not an excuse. That does not relieve you of your responsibilities," Michael warned. "Understood?"

"Yes Sir," Sasha answered softly.

Michael closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Go take your shower," he ordered harshly.

Heartbroken, Sasha silently left the room. As the bedroom door closed, Abigail sat down at the table. Michael started to eat, trying to ignore Abigail; it didn't work.

"I didn't tell her last night because I wanted her to act naturally," Michael muttered, feeling a little guilty. Abigail made no comment, just lightly drummed the tips of her fingers on the table.

"Geesh Abigail, it worked, she made a good impression. Didn't she?" Michael grumbled, half proud of himself.

"Yes, she did at that," Abigail had to agree. "Your mother was impressed, but now I think you have a problem on your hands with Sasha."

"I will deal with Sasha," Michael advised sharply. "What does Galiena have planned for tonight?"

"Exhibitions, buying, selling, the usual," Abigail sighed. "I can tell you that Melantha will be there, and I understand that Trystan has been invited." Abigail paused a moment, weighing her next question. "Does Sasha know?"

As they talked, Sasha stepped into the shower. Feelings of doubt invaded her thoughts as warm water cascaded over her head and face, mingling with the tears.

**Why hadn't Michael told her Galiena was his mother? Why did Galiena want to select her outfit for tonight? Was Michael just training her for his mother, or even worse, his father?**

Sasha shut off the water, and reached for a towel. I wonder how long Michael will be angry, she thought. Slowly, she dried herself off, and brushed her hair. Maybe she was expecting to much from Michael. Maybe she had seen something that really wasn't there. "You are only a slave in training," Sasha chastized herself. Turning the knob on the door into the bedroom she repeated, "You are only a slave in training. To him you are nothing more."

Michael was waiting on the other side of the door. Sasha immediately lowered her head, clasped her hands behind her back, and stood with her feet slightly parted.

"Sasha, I owe you an apology," Michael stated.

"No Master," Sasha answered, quickly. "I am a slave, nothing more."

Michael stepped over to the amoire, picked up the stiff leather paddle and came to stand within inches of Sasha.

"Do you care to repeat that last remark?" Michael questioned, lifting her chin with the end of the paddle.

Eyes rounded in surprise, Sasha quickly shook her head.

"If you ever say anything like that again, I will see to it you are unable to sit down for a week," Michael threatened sincerely.

"Yes Sir," Sasha whispered, as her hand unconsciously caressed her bottom.

Michael held the paddle under her chin a moment longer, then turned and tossed it onto the bed. Slipping his hands into his pockets, Michael stared at the floor as he rocked onto the balls of his feet and back; thinking.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you Galiena and Johnathan were my parents," Michael apologized. "My mother's opinion is extremely important to me, and I didn't want you intentionally trying to impress her. I wanted you act as naturally as possible."

"And was she impressed, Master?"

Michael gazed at her, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, but his voice seemed distant, "Yes my pet, she was very impressed."

For a moment his eyes clung to hers as if he was trying to memorize her every feature, then lightly kissing her forehead he whispered, "you need to finish dressing."


To be continued

© SusieQ 12/13/97



First Meeting: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part14 | Part15


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