First Meeting - Chapter 2
by SusieQ

Michael turned away, and headed for the kitchen. Sasha followed.

"I did not say you could move," Michael said sternly when he heard the click of her heeled boots on the tile.

"Michael!" Sasha yelped, and he spun around to face her. The fire in his eyes told her more than she wanted to know. Biting her lower lip, Sasha turned around and slowly made her way back to her place in front of the coffee table.

Michael returned to the coffee table also. "Maybe I am wrong in thinking you are ready for this evening," Michael stated, his irritation obvious. Sasha cast her eyes to the floor. "That was the third mistake you've made since you have been here, actually in the last hour. Do you have an explanation?"

"I am trying to stay focused, Master. It is the excitment of being with you and the anticipation of tonights events," Sasha answered, her head lowered in shame.

"Your excitment and anticipation need to be controlled. Your training has been virtually without physical discipline or punishment, possibly now is the time for you to comprehend the meaning of the words."

"If that would help me to stay focused, Master, then please teach me," Sasha begged. "I do so wish to accompany you this evening."

Michael stood over her, silently deciding his next move. "Get on your knees on the coffee table," he directed sternly. Sasha responded immediately, and without looking up she positioned herself on her knees at the edge of the low wood table. "Now, place your nose on the surface of the table."

Sasha leaned forward, supporting herself by placing her hands on the table, and placed her nose on the smooth surface.

"Spread your knees apart."

Sasha cautiously separated her knees, barely exposing her neatly shaved pussy from under her white suede skirt. Michael moved to her rear and tapped his finger to the inside of her knees. Sasha continued to inch her knees apart until Michael indicated for her to stop.

Michael placed his hands on her thighs, skimming them upward, pushing her skirt up over her back. His gentle touch caressed her rounded ass cheeks.

"Sasha, I want you to release the table and balance yourself in this position by extending your arms out from your sides." As Sasha complied her forehead and shins bumped the table, stablizing her. She could hear Michael leave the room, but she remained stationary.

"Only your nose and knees are to touch the table," he ordered, returning with two yardsticks, each mounted on a wide board to hold them upright. "Your arms are to be extended and your hands are not to drop below the tape I have placed on each yardstick."

"Michael," Sasha whimpered.

"Sasha, be still," Michael ordered sharply. "You must concentrate on only two things. Maintaining your balance and keeping your hands above the tape."

"Yes, Master."

"If your hands go below the tape, I will assist in refocusing your thoughts," he concluded. "If I am going to take you with me tonight, I will be absolutely sure your thoughts are focused."

Sasha swayed back and forth, managing to keep her hands above the tape and maintain her balance. Michael seated himself on the sofa behind her and began to leaf through a magazine. While Sasha balanced her mind wandered back to the first time Michael had disciplined her.

He had set patterns of instructions for her which he felt she had become to comfortable with. Instead of listening to his instructions, she had begun pre-guessing what he would say.

That evening he had instructed her not to answer the phone at all the next day, no matter how long it rang, and had given her a reprieve from reciting her rules before retiring. He did instruct her though to recite them the next morning, nude, breast thrust forward, fingers locked behind her back and sitting indian fashion in the middle of her living room.

The next evening when the phone rang all Michael said when she answered was,

*There is a package for you at the back door,* and hung up.

Confused, Sasha hurried to the back door and sure enough a meidum sized packaged, wrapped in brown paper was on the porch. Setting it on the kitchen table, Sasha removed the envelope from the top and opened it.


You have not been listening to me, and I am not at all happy with you. Enclosed are the items needed for your first lesson in discipline. I expect you to follow directions to the letter. If you do not, punishment will follow.

Open the Box

Sasha opened the box and found a list of items enclosed.

1 pair seven inch heels
1 two inch wide leather collar
1 leather harness bra and posture strap
1 six inch wide leather belt w/wrist stra ps attached
7 minature silver locks

Below the list Michael had written, *Remove all your clothing and lock every item enclosed in place.* As the last lock clicked, Sasha saw one final note taped to the bottom of the box. With her wrists strapped to her side, Sasha struggled to retrieve the note. Slowly working the folds apart she smoothed it open on the table.


You must listen when I speak to you. You must hear my words and only my words. I do not like repeating myself and I explicitly mean what I say. You have taken for granted your daily rituals would not change. I changed them last evening.
You were not to answer the phone today
You were not to recite your directives last evening
You were to recite them this morning in a new position
My friend Abigail will be by to release you at her instructed time.


"OooooWwwww!" Sasha screamed. Her forehead thumping the wood as one hand grabbed the table, and the other hand grabbed her ass. Michael's stiff leather stap left a two inch mark across her bare bottom.

"Your hands were below the tape," Michael informed her. "Resume your position."

"Master, that hurt," Sasha cried, rubbing her bottom.

"I imagine it did. If your hands drop below the tape, I will remind you again. You are to focus on only two things. Maintaining your balance and keeping your hands above the tape."

"Yes, Master," Sasha whispered, slowly returning to her balanced position.

"Whenever I remind you, you are not to grab the table or your bottom. If you do, I will administer another."

"Yes, Master."

Sasha breathed evenly, teetering ever so slightly as she concentrated on her outstretched arms. Eventually, thoughts of how long she must endure and how she could possibly please her Master in this position, invaded her concentration. Just like her first lesson, she thought.

That time her hands were strapped to her side, if she sat down the restrictive six inch belt pinched her. She couldn't bend over with the posture stap attached to her collar and the wide belt. Her feet hurt from the overly high heels and her breast were squeezed together and thrust forward in that silly harness.

"Oooowwww!" she screamed, and grabbed the table. "Ooowww!" she screamed again and quickly extended her arms, losing her balance. Michael's strong hands caught her waist as she fell forward.

"Thank you, Master," Sasha whispered, and again extended her arms.

Michael watched, and within minutes Sasha's fingertips began to sink closer and closer to the tape.

"Sasha, what is the purpose of this lesson?" Michael patiently questioned.

"To focus my thoughts, Master."

"Why must your thoughts be focused?"

"So that I may accompany you this evening, Master."

"Good girl," Michael's warm voice praised.

Sasha's hands again rose above the tape. As with her first lesson, just the sound of Michael's voice gave her renewed strength. That first time his reassuring voice had spoke to her over the answering machine.

She had been awake most of the night, unable to get comfortable in her bonded state. She had only had chips for supper, since she was unable to operate the stove. She had been shivering since early morning, and couldn't even get into a hot tub with those blasted heels locked to her aching feet. She had finally been reduced to tears as the phone started to ring, unable to do anything more than listen as the machine picked up.

"Sasha," Michael's gentle voice spoke her name. "Are you listening to me."

Just a few words from her Master had given her the strength to endure until Abigail arrived to release her.


"Sasha, Concentrate!" Michael snapped, applying the strap a second time as she prevented herself from falling forward.

Once repositioned Michael released her. Angry with herself Sasha thumped her forehead purposely against the wood.

"Stop it," Michael ordered harshly.

"No," Sasha cried. "Oooowwww! Ooooowwwww! Michael, I stopped! I stopped!" she screamed as Michael's firm grip prevented her from falling or escaping.

An hour later, Michael slid the leather paddle back into it's sleeve along the side of his boot. Sasha remained balanced with only her nose and knees touching the table.

"Sasha," Michael spoke gently. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Master."

"Tonight at the Citadel you will do exactly as I say and you will not speak the entire time we are there."

"Yes, Master," she answered without moving a muscle.

A moment later, Sasha felt the loving touch of her master's hands on her warm bottom. His strap had left it's mark on the back of each of h er legs, and her ass cheeks were reddened but not bruised. Michael tenderly kissed each hot cheek then straightened her white suede skirt. Michael placed his hands on Sasha's hips, drawing her back against himself.

"Sasha," he sighed heavily. "You may not call me Michael." Sasha lost her balance, but her Master's hands were supporting her securely. "Come on, you may stand up now," he instructed guiding her back, allowing her to lean against him until her feet were steady.

Sasha regained her footing, straightened her clothes and fixed her hazel eyes, brimming with tears, on the third button of Michael's shirt.

"Are you all right?" Michael asked.

"Yes, Master. I am fine," she answered, her voice barely a whisper. Michael slipped his hand through the mass of auburn hair at the base of her neck drawing her to him. As his lips touched her forehead, tears splashed passed her dark lashes.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Michael remained with his lips pressed to her forehead a moment longer. He was remembering the excitment he felt everytime she spoke his name.

Suddenly he stiffened, remembering his responsibilities. He is the Master, and Sasha must remember this. She is his slave, whether she likes being referred to as slave or not, she must submit. He is responsible for both their lives and desires, and he must remember this above all else.

"Come Precious, it's time for us to leave."

Head bowed, hands clasped behind her back, Sasha silently followed Michael through the house, stopping several steps behind him at the door to the garage. When he opened the door, cold winter air rushed in, sending chill bumps over her exposed skin. Sasha only hoped he would offer her a coat. The short shoulder cape she now wore could hardly be called covering. The flimsy lace material hung just an inch passed the half cup bra of her corset.

"It's really cold out tonight," Michael commented quickly shrugging into his leather jacket.

"Yes, Master, very cold," Sasha answered quietly, without looking up.

"If you do not ask me for a coat, I will assume you do not want one," Michael remarked and stepped into the garage. Sasha defiantly bit her lower lip and followed him out the door. In one fluid motion, Michael pivoted on the ball of his foot drawing the leather paddle from it's sleeve as he turned.

"May I have a coat," Sasha blurted out. She saw the muscle at the back of his jaw tighten as their eyes met. "Please Master," she whispered, and her mischievous hazel eyes sparkled.

Caught off guard by the look in her eyes, Michael pushed the paddle back into the boot sleeve. Crossing the garage, he removed his oilskin duster from the hanger, and held it open for Sasha. He watched as she slipped her slender arms down the sleeves, then lifting her auburn hair over the collar he adjusted the shoulders. Still standing behind her while Sasha adjusted the front of the heavy coat, Michael's hands found their way to her up thrust breast, firmly held in place by the corset. Gently grasping her breast he pulled Sasha back against himself.

"Mmmm Michael," she breathed, and felt his cock stiffen, "your hands are warm."

"Sasha," he murmured mindfully, tightening his fingers around her breast.

"Yes Master," she whispered. "I am very focused."

Michael smiled to himself, and teasingly traced his fingers down the ribbing of the corset. "Tonight my Pet, I shall have my way with you," he whispered into her hair. Sasha could feel his hot breath against her ear as Michael's fingers slipped between her legs. And cupping her pussy in his hand he forced her ass tightly into his groin, "Tonight, my Pet."

........ Michael opened the passenger door of his 300 XLS, allowing Sasha to slid comfortably onto the leather seat. Sasha was silent as Michael drove up the freeway ramp, her thoughts drifting back to a conversation they had shared months earlier.

"Michael," Sasha had implored on that warm summer evening. "May I ask a question?"


"We have been speaking nightly for over a month," she began. "And I enjoy you calling, even look forward to it." She paused a long moment looking for the right words.

"And....." Michael's masculine voice urged.

"And... well...." she took a deep breath, "what kind of relationship is there between us?"

"I am to be your Master and you my Slave," Michael informed her calmly. "I have been waiting until you were comfortable in asking me, before I moved further into the relationship."

"Oh," she breathed, momentarily startled by his answer.

"From today forward, I will begin your training. You will listen to me, and you will do as I say. I in turn, will care and provide for you completely."

"Oh," she repeated, almost embarrassed at how happy that made her.

"Your training, for the time being, will be conducted by phone, mail, and through female associates of mine, when the situation requires it."


"Sasha, say more than *oh*, or I will hang up," Michael said sternly.

"Will I ever meet you?" Sasha asked softly.

"Yes, one day. You must first learn to listen to my voice and respond accordingly to my tone, whether it be, stern, encouraging, ordering, soothing, or angry."


"Slave," Michael's voice became harsh. "You will do as I say, without hesitation. I will discipline or punish you, as I see fit, for mistakes, disobedience and to re-enforce the fact that I am the Master. Now, if you say *oh* one more time, I will punish you."

"Yes Sir," Sasha whispered. "Michael?"

"Yes, Slave."

"I do not like being called slave," she said quietly.

"I see," he chuckled softly. "And what would you like me to call you?"

Sasha smiled to herself, remembering the short list of names Michael had allowed. Although, anytime he felt he needed to get his point across he referred to her as slave and insisted she call him master. At the thought of Michael getting his point across, Sasha's bottom tightened, remembering the recent sting of his leather paddle.

"Sasha," Michael's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You are very quiet. Is there something on your mind?"

"No Master," Sasha responded, and unconsciously her brow furrowed.

Michael eased the car into the flow of traffic in the right lane and set the cruise control. Sasha was fidgeting in the seat, absent-mindedly twisting a thread from the liner of the oilskin duster.

"Sasha, what are you thinking about?" Michael asked.

Sasha's shoulders lifted in a half shrug as she sighed.

"Sasha......." Michael drawled insistently.

"What are you going to call me tonight?"

Michael looked over at her. She had quit figeting, her shoulders had tensed and her hazel eyes stared at her lap.

"My Pet," he answered reassuringly.

"Thank you," she breathed, and her shoulders relaxed.

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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