Meeting - Chapter 9
Sasha went straight to the refrigerator and swung open the door. "Let me see," she said seriously, bending at the waist as she stuck her head inside. "Master, you do not have much in here to choose from."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Michael smiled, grasping Sasha's round ass. "I've already found what I want to snack on."
Laughing, Sasha turned and was caught in his arms. As they kissed, Michael's hands explored the soft lines of her waist and hips.
"Master," Sasha breathed, touching the edges of his ear with her tongue. "I'm hungry."
"All right," Michael laughed.
Holding Sasha's waist from behind, they both inventoried the contents of the refrigerator. "I don't have much in there, do I," Michael agreed, pulling the bottle of milk from the shelf. Twisting off the cap he sniffed the contents. "The milk's still good. How about some cookies and milk, will that hold you over for a while?"
Sasha gave him a thoughtful glance. "What kind of cookies?"
"My favorite, chocolate chip," Michael answered, with a boyish grin. "Mother made them."
Sasha eyes quickly searched the kitchen. "Your mother lives here?"she asked, suddenly very aware that she was naked.
"No," Michael laughed. "This is my home, I just don't eat here all that often. Mother had the cookies sent over yesterday."
"Whew," Sasha sighed, and kissed his cheek. "You had me worried there for a minute."
"No need, anyway mother thinks your body is gorgeous." Sasha gave him a quizzical look. "Never mind," Michael laughed, "I'll get the cookie jar, if you'll pour us each a glass of milk."
Sasha carried two full glasses of milk over to the table, setting one down in front of Michael. "Hey, where do you think you're going?" Michael asked, as she started toward her chair, glass in hand. "I have a place for you to sit, right here," and he patted his lap, smiling.
Sasha's dimples flowered, a devilish thought coming to mind as she set her glass of milk next to Michael's. Instead of sitting on Michael's lap she knelt, and slipped her hands between his knees, parting his leather clad thighs. Crawling between his legs, Sasha again sucked his soft cock into her mouth, teasingly circling the head with her tongue; Michael was rock hard almost immediately. Sasha then wrapped her slender fingers around the shaft, stroking him gently as she leaned back, resting her buttocks on the heels of her boots. With a sensual grin, she raised up, her lips instinctively finding their way to his. As their kiss intensified, Sasha inched herself forward, straddling Michael's lap. At the same time Michael thrust his tongue into the recesses of her warm mouth, Sasha guided Michael's cock into her wet pussy and sat down.
"Mmmmmm," Michael groaned softly, pressing his ass deeper into the chair. Without breaking their kiss, Sasha teasingly lifted herself up, and Michael instantly grabbed her hips, tugging her back in place. "Huh uh," Michael insisted.
Sasha pressed her breast against his bare chest as she hooked the heels of her boots on the rung of the chair legs. Perfect leverage, she thought, and clenched her pussy muscles; Michael gasped. Sasha began a slow pumping motion, her ass lightly bumping against Michael's lap each time her pussy sank over his cock. The steady movement was pleasing but quickly frustrated Michael and he began to thrust upward, insisting on more stimulation. Michael could feel Sasha's lips forming a smile around their kiss, then she nestled her pelvis snugly into his and reached for a cookie.
"I really am hungry," she giggled, and took a bite.
"You're a tease," Michael grumbled.
Sasha's brows raised in amusement as she calmly chewed. Michael thrust his hips upward, but with Sasha's heels hooked the way they were his efforts were effectively thwarted.
"Now, Now Master, musn't be to anxious," Sasha reprimanded, wagging her finger at him playfully. "Here, bite," she giggled, offering Michael a bite off her cookie, "they're very good."
Sasha nonchalantly ate her cookie, sharing bites with Michael. Each time Michael took a bite she would rock up and down in rhythm with his chewing, keeping him nicely aroused. Sasha's hazel eyes twinkled as Michael picked up his glass of milk. With Michael's second swallow of the cold milk, Sasha clenched her pussy muscles; bearing down with all her might.
"Aaaahhhh," Michael choked setting the glass back on the table, and the grandfather clock in the hall struck two o'clock.
Sasha looked down at Michael as the echo from the clock faded. Her eyes began to well with tears. Suddenly her six inch booted heels dropped to the floor, and she was on her feet and stepping away.
"Whoa," Michael exclaimed, catching her wrists in each hand.
"It's late," Sasha rasped, trying to wrench free, "I need to go."
"Sit back down here," Michael said sternly, tightening his grip.
"No!" Sasha snapped tearfully, stomping her booted heel at him.
"Sasha, sit down," Michael demanded, and Sasha halted. "Sit... down," Michael repeated harshly. Sasha reluc tantly straddled Michael's lap. "You are not going anywhere," Michael informed her.
"But we did not agree on this," Sasha muttered sadly, her misty hazel eyes fixed on Michael's chest.
"I know that, but I am making the decisions, and you are not going anywhere at this hour. Is that understood?"
"Yes Master," Sasha sighed. "Thank you for watching out for me, but....."
"But nothing," Michael interrupted. "And if you have anything else to say you had better do so respectfully. Stomping your foot at me again has already created a need for punishment, don't make it any worse."
Devasted, Sasha buried her face in Michael's shoulder sobbing. Michael tenderly rubbed her back for a moment, allowing her the time necessary to accept the fact that punishment was pending.
"Sasha, I want you to listen to me," Michael spoke soothingly, gently kissing her ear. Easing her away from his shoulder, Michael put his finger under her chin, lifting her head until she was looking at him.
"My darling, I adore your vitality and understand that, for some time, you have been able to do as you please, but here and now, you will do as I say, do you understand?" Sasha sadly wrinkled her nose, and sniffed.
"Answer me," Michael insisted, jarring her with a subtle jerk of his knees.
"Yes Sir," Sasha muttered stubbornly.
"You know I love to have fun, but I do not take my role lightly. I have been watching out for you for more than six months, and by the end of the weekend we will know if this is going to be a permanet arrangement. Right?" Michael stated more than asked, jarring her again when she only gave a slight nod.
"Yes Sir," Sasha responded with a tsking of her tongue in aggravation.
"You know you are to be my slave. You will be at my beckon and call twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. You will do as I say, when I say, and for as long as I say. I will always listen to your concerns, and discuss them with you; just as I have been doing. But, you will abide by my decisions whether you agree with them or not."
Michael hesitated as his handsome features became even more stern. "You will not argue or fuss at me, and you will not throw temper tantrums. If you do, I will punish you," Michael concluded emphatically, his clear blue eyes, unyielding regarded her for a long moment.
Sasha squirmed uncomfortably on his lap, tears instantly bordering her lashes. His point made, Michael cupped her face in his hands, catching a salty tear with his thumb as it streaked her cheek. Coaxing her quivering lips to his, Michael kissed her tenderly. As Sasha relaxed under his gentle touch, silently accepting his firm warning, Michael felt his excitment returning.
Slipping his hand between their bodies, Micheal positioned his cock at the opening to Sasha's pussy. Willingly Sasha accepted the invitation, taking him into the warm, wet depths of her body. Michael closed his eyes, enjoying the intimacy that now encompassed him.
"Michael," Sasha whispered, raising herself up just enough to break his concentration. "I'm supposed to go shopping with Abigail tomorrow."
"I already called her," Michael sighed, tugging her back in place.
"What time is she going to be here?" Sasha continued, again moving herself up his shaft to the very head of his cock.
"Saassshaaaa......" Michael groaned grasping her hips. Sasha had her heels positioned over the rungs of the chair again giving her the advantage.
"What time?" Sasha softly sang in his ear, maintaining her position.
"Ten o'clock!" Michael exclaimed, and Sasha plopped back onto his lap.
Michael immediately reached for her feet to get them off the chair rungs, but Sasha tightened her thighs and buttocks, increasing the strength of her position. Michael sagged back in the chair, aggravated and glared at her.
"Abigail will be here at ten to take you shopping for an outfit to wear tonight. We have been invited to Johnathan and Galiena's for a playparty."
"Go where!" Sasha gasped, her booted heels dropping to the floor.
Michael grabbed her waist before she could get her feet under her. "Galiena thinks you will do fine; I disagreed. That's what took so long this evening when I returned to the dining area," he informed her, holding her firmly on his lap.
"You disagreed!" Sasha yelped, wrenching free as she lunged back. "You disagreed with what! And when were you going to tell me about tonight," she exclaimed in a rush of words.
"That's it!" Michael declared, snagging Sasha's wrist as he came out of the chair.
Michael stormed out of the kitchen, Sasha in tow and headed straight for the chair on the living room rug. Within seconds Sasha was over the chair back, her bottom in the air, and her hands palm down on the seat.
"Lesson number one starts right now," Michael stated harshly, and picked up the riding crop from the coffee table.
Sasha held her breath as she heard the crop swish thru the air, involuntarily jumping as it landed with a thwhakk against Michael's leather clad calf. Michael then turned on his heel and walked off. She could hear him as he scraped the kitchen chair out and sat down.
Michael ate a cookie and reached for another.
Michael got up to get himself another glass of milk, scraping the chair on the tile as he did so.
Sasha waited, her thoughts drifting back several months to a question Michael had asked her to think about.
*What do you expect from me as your Master?*
At first it had seemed such a simple question, but as the days moved into weeks, and Michael did not inquire as to her answer, she had begun to think more seriously about what she really did expect from him, and from herself.
She wanted him to be in control, not only of her, but of himself. For him to be stern and demanding, expecting nothing less than perfection. But for him to understand that she was not perfect.
She wanted him to know that she was not weak or inferior, but a woman, sure and proud of her womanhood. But that she did not want to be his equal. She expected his strength, guidance and protection.
She wanted him to understand that she chooses to be submissive. That she expected to bend to his will, but not be broken. She expected him to take his sexual pleasures from her, but also to be made love to.................
Michael stood in the doorway of the kitchen looking at Sasha's firm, round buttocks. He watched as the lips of her wet pussy would stick together as she nervously shifted her weight from foot to foot.
"Lesson number one," he sighed to himself, "is teaching your Master not to react quite so quickly."
Michael set his glass on the counter and returned to the living room. Sasha listened as he approached, trying to be as still as possible. He stopped directly behind her, and she could hear him tapping the riding crop against the side of his leg. She jumped when his warm hand touched the inside of her thigh. She felt the back of his hand lightly brush her clitoris as he gently pinched the lips of her pussy.
"Sasha, are you listening to me," Michael's deep voice penetrated her thoughts.
"Yes Master," Sasha softly replied. Michael silently laid the riding crop on the sofa, and began slowly carressing the soft, tanned skin of her asscheeks.
"I disagreed with Galiena, in that I did not feel you were ready to be at a private playparty. The rules at a private gathering are much more rigid than they were at the club this evening."
"Oh Michael," Sasha interrupted excitedly, "I know I'll........"
"Sasha, be still," Michael grumbled.
"Humph," Sasha huffed, bumping her butt into his groin.
Michael's open palm came down swiftly, striking the area where Sasha's right asscheek blended into thigh.
"Oooowww!" Sasha yelped, and Michael intercepted her hand as she grabbed for her bottom.
Pinning her wrist in the small of her back, Michael applied another stinging smack to the opposite thigh. Sasha's other hand instinctively darted back, and Michael snagged it as well; pinning it against the first. Sasha's six inch booted heel only made a dull thud on the shag rug as she unconsciously stomped her foot, sealing her fate.
Sasha's well tanned skin reddened quickly under Michael's broad hand as he delivered slow, deliberate spanks to her asscheeks and thighs.
"Oowww! Oooooh, Oooooowww!" Sasha squealed and squirmed. "Oooooh, Please Master, enough. Ooowwww! Stop!"
The spanking barely lasted a minute but to Sasha it seemed endless. Her thoughts focused on only one thing-her stinging backside.
"Slave," Michael said, his clear, deep voice edged with steel. "I've had enough of the foot stomping, that's final," and his open hand landed squarely across both asscheeks.
"Yes Sir... yes sir," Sasha choked.
"You will not stomp your foot at me," Michael demanded punctuating his sentence with a single spank. "Say it! I will not stomp my foot at my Master."
"I will not stomp my foot at my Master," Sasha gasped, squirming as Michael punctuated her sentence also.
"Again," he ordered, with another brusque smack.
"I will not stomp my foot at my Master," Sasha repeated, and Michael's hand connected again, now keeping her thoughts focused on him. "I will not stomp my foot at my Master," she stammered sincerely, "I will not stomp my foot at my Master."
It was a full minute before Sasha realized, through the burning sensation, that Michael's hand was lightly caressing her asscheeks. A minute after that he released her wrist, and urged her to an upright position; turning her to face him.
Sasha stood before him, her head lowered. She had not shed the first tear, but now, with every breath she took she struggled to maintain control. Her foot quivered nervously as she waited for what was to come next. Michael tenderly brushed the back of his hand over her flushed cheek, destroying her willpower. Her trembling fingers covered her lips, smothering the sob. Michael calmly grasped her shoulders and drew her into his comforting embrace.
"It's all right, baby," Michael soothed, and her tears came unbidden. Michael held her close, softly reassuring her as he gently rubbed her bottom.
"Let's go to bed,"
he whispered, and scooping her into his arms, carried her to his room.