Hilary Davis walked nervously through the nightclub. It was "fetish night", a ritual for her and some of her friends ever since she had become legal. They’d drink and pretend to be submissive or dominant for kicks. What had started out as a college girl just having fun with boys had turned into a discovery. Hilary was interested in being a submissive, so tonight was different. Tonight, she had separated from her friends, and gone in search of—him. There was a man in the club Hilary had seen come in almost every week she’d been there. She tingled when he walked by her, as if there was a—power—he held. It didn’t hurt that he usually had one or two women with him, sometimes wearing collars, but he would always be holding the leash or chain. One thing was certain; he was not just playing the fetish game. He would disappear somewhere in the club, and Hilary would not see him again for the night. Tonight, she would try to change that.
After a hefty bribe to one of the cocktail waitresses, she discovered that there was a private area for "members only," and that was why she never saw him leave. She found her way to a very nondescript service stairway as she had been directed and went upstairs. She opened the door at the top, and found herself in a small room with two very large men. Hilary put on her best "I belong here" attitude and started to walk past the men. "Hold it sweetheart," one of them gruffly said. "What’s your name."
She tried the indignant act. "If you think I’m going to tell you my name then guess again," she haughtily sniffed. "Now let me through." The ice-queen upper class princess bit usually intimidated ruffians like this.
"Not if your name isn’t on the list we don’t," the other man interrupted, not fazed in the least. "Save the act, princess. We’ve seen it before. Everybody here gives some sort of secret ID to get in. So, go back downstairs and play with the rest of the kiddies. I’d hate to have to have you removed, as pretty as you look. I’m sure you can find what you’re looking for down there."
Hilary’s surprise at having been so easily detected dissolved into pouting frustration. The men remained impassive, calmly waiting for her to leave. She turned and left the room, heading down the steps. Tears were beginning to fall—she didn’t know why but she couldn’t stop them, so she turned her head down so that no one would see and promptly bumped into someone at the bottom of the steps. Oh my god. Hilary regarded a blonde woman in a black leather minidress, wearing sunglasses and thigh-high black boots. She was a little on the chunky side, Hilary thought, but as she continued to tactlessly take the woman in, she noticed that the other woman held a riding crop, and was leading a collared man by a chain. She gaped.
"Yes?" the woman said, with a soft, throaty voice.
"Oh—I’m sorry," Hilary sniffled. "I was just—leaving. I wasn’t looking where I was going," she admitted.
"You’re crying, dear," the woman observed. "What’s wrong?" she asked, sympathetically patting Hilary’s cheek.
"I was—looking for somebody—up there. I really wanted to speak to him, but I didn’t know it was private," she lied. "He only walks through the club—and well—I—" The woman cut her off, asking her to describe the man. Hilary did, leaving the part out about the power she felt emanating from him.
To her surprise, the woman simply said, "Come with me, dear. I know who you’re talking about." She snapped on the chain, surprising Hilary, and frightening her a little. She saw the shorter, rounder woman smile, accompanied by a feral gleam in her eyes. The man with her obediently followed them both up the steps. Hilary was first through the door, and saw the bouncer’s eyes roll. Before he could say anything, the woman behind her said, "Wild Bill Hickok, and the young lady is with me." The man nodded, obviously recognizing "Wild Bill", and simultaneously swallowed whatever he was going to say to Hilary. He opened the locked door he and his equally huge friend guarded. Hilary stuck her tongue out at them as she passed.
Once in the room, Hilary had to swallow her shock. There was sex going on here, there were whippings going on here! This was the real thing! Her benefactor simply tugged on her arm to keep the college girl moving, not allowing her to gape too long at any one scene. As she dumbly followed the dominatrix through the room, Hilary was beginning to have second thoughts. She was just about to say something when "Wild Bill" spoke. "This one wanted to meet you." Hilary found herself face-to-face with the man of her most recent erotic dreams, and the background faded away instantly.
He was dressed casually, in jeans with a silk shirt. No whips, no chains, no nothing. "Thank you, Lynn. I was actually here to see--you." Hilary felt it again—that sense of power. Her compatriot seemed affected, too, stuttering a soft, "yes… see me," while losing the air of control and dominance she had possessed. Abruptly, he turned his eyes on Hilary, looking her over. She felt herself become aroused, and hoped he liked what he was seeing. While she was no slouch in the looks department, the slender blonde was a little nervous. "And what attracts you to my flame, little moth?" he softly said.
"I… I…" Forgotten was the well-thought out introduction and explanation of her desires. Hilary could only feel tiny and insignificant in his presence. "I… want to… belong," she said, surprising herself. That wasn’t what she was going to say, but it sounded so—right.
"I see. You’ve decided that this "fetish night" appeals to you for more than just a few hours and a few thrills on a Monday night. You’ve seen me in the club, and believe that I may have, if not the key to your desires, both expressed and unexpressed, the answer to your question about dominance and submission." He spoke to her without looking at her once, yet Hilary felt riveted to his every word. "You are not the first college girl from fetish night to question the nature of her sexual being of me. What is your name, little moth?"
"Hilary," she replied, mouth dry, then quickly added, "sir." She bowed her head and knelt in a gesture of submission. That much she knew from the chats on IRC.
"Stand up, Hilary. You do not belong to anyone yet," he told her. There was an underlying tone of amusement in his voice. "You are willing and eager for the training without knowing what it all means, Hilary." He wrote a phone number on a piece of paper. She reached for it. "Not yet," he said. "Lynn, prepare yourself for me," he commanded. The chunky woman let go of the leash she was holding and sat down next to him. Reclining, she crossed her legs, put a blue cigarette into a long cigarette holder, and lit it. The woman took a long drag, tilted her head back and exhaled through her nose and mouth. "Very good, Lynn," he smiled, sounding pleased. There was something strange going on here, but hell if Hilary could figure out what it was. "Now, Hilary," the man said, turning to her, "here is my phone number. Think on what you’ve just seen, and if it still interests you, call me no sooner than a week from Wednesday. But now you should go back downstairs, and tell no one what you’ve seen tonight."
Hilary took the phone number with a soft thank you then turned away. She started to leave, mindless of the activity around her that had claimed her entire attention on entry, but turned for one last look at him. She turned just in time to see him put his hand between Lynn’s legs, immediately starting a fire between her own.
Hilary fought the urge to call him. Every day, it seemed that she could not shake the images from the club; if anything, they were getting stronger, not fading over time. Her hand had found its way between her own legs at least twice a day since she had left the club. Each time, she would think of him, being collared and on a chain that he held, and she would orgasm intensely, blinding lights in her head and sopping wet down there. But she couldn’t call him. He had told her not to, and if she couldn’t bring herself to obey that simple command, she knew he’d reject her immediately. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to see him, the stronger the urge grew to call him.
The following Monday was hell. She passed on fetish night with her girlfriends. She didn’t think she could see him without making a complete fool of herself. But it would have been so easy to go… just to see him… she didn’t have to talk to him… Somewhere, Hilary resisted all of her body’s arguments, and masturbated herself to sleep instead.
Wednesday, she was on the phone as soon as she got home from class, dialing the number with trembling fingers, out-of-breath and her heart racing. She grew increasingly anxious with each ring, and it peaked when someone picked up the phone. "Hello?" Hilary panted. When a woman’s voice answered, she felt very awkward and unsure. "Umm… my name is Hilary Davis, and I umm… was… given this number to call today?" The woman asked her to wait for a moment. She sounded gorgeous over the phone, and Hilary started to worry that she wouldn’t measure up in terms of beauty. The voice that sounded next turned her legs to jelly.
"Hello, Hilary Davis. Have you thought about it?"
It was him. She could barely fight the swell of sensual excitement in her body enough to respond coherently. "Umm… yeah… I—I—hell, I’ve almost been unable to think about anything else," she finally said. "I want to be your slave." There, she had said it.
"Whatever that means," he softly chuckled. "Do you agree to that term?" Hilary did, the fire growing between her thighs again. "Then I believe it is time to proceed to the next stage. This is what I want you to do…"
Hilary looked at the reservations clerk behind the desk. In a way, she couldn’t believe that she was doing this; but here she was, at a fancy downtown hotel, with a suitcase, dressed in her interview suit. It was Thursday evening, but it had been easy enough to tell her roommates that she was going on an out-of-town interview. "My name is Hilary Davis. I believe you have a room for me?" The clerk did, and informed her that all payment arrangements had been made to the hotel’s satisfaction. She waited there as she had been instructed, getting nervous, but determined to see this through. The phone startled her after she’d been in the room for almost two hours. "Miss Davis? Your car is here. The bellman will be up to help you with your luggage." Car? She had left her car back at her apartment and taken a taxi here. What was going on? Was she going out of town? Was this safe? Her doubts kept growing as the bellman arrived and they went down the elevator.
She walked into the lobby, wondering if she should just call the whole thing off and reclaim her bag from the man leading her to the entrance. Once outside, Hilary marveled at the limousine sitting there as the bellman placed the bag in the car’s trunk, then opened the door. Hilary dumbly climbed into the empty back seat. "Miss Davis?" a female voice inquired over the driver’s intercom. "My name is Diane. I am one of Master’s slaves," she said as the car glided away from the hotel. "He bids you welcome, and says that you may have your choice from the bar. Master will be joining us at the airport, but he wanted me to pick you up first. Do you have any questions?"
"Umm… where are we going?"
"We are eventually going to his house. Master was out of town on business today, and is arriving shortly. You are not being kidnapped, I assure you." Hilary breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, this woman was clearly his slave, and would say anything for him. Still, she felt a little safer in the woman’s presence. There were many more questions, but she wasn’t sure she felt comfortable asking the driver. They pulled up to the airport, and "Diane" (was that her real name?) parked the limo. She got out of the car and stood by the passenger door, waiting. Hilary hadn’t said a word for the entire ride, and now her apprehension was growing by leaps and bounds. She finally reasoned that she could leave any time she wanted—maybe she’d get her suitcase back, maybe not. She opened the door and stepped out. Diane quickly turned, freezing Hilary’s heart for an instant. The young blonde gathered as many wits as she could find at that moment, and in a small voice, asked, "May I have my suitcase back, please? I think I want to go home." It came out much softer, and much less self-assured than she wanted.
Diane smiled at her. Not evil, not amused, not sympathetic. Just a genuine, "I’d like to be friends," smile. It wasn’t any of the reactions for which Hilary had hastily prepared, which didn’t help calm her nerves at all. "Nervous, Hilary?" Diane lightly asked. All the younger girl could do was nod. "Don’t be. It isn’t so bad, but I remember what it was like to be on the precipice, not knowing what you’re about to get yourself into." She stepped closer. "Mine was a little more… dramatic. I was waiting at the train station, and it was almost midnight. The train was a couple of hours late in arriving, but when it did, a woman stepped out of the private car on the back of the train, walked over to me, and told me to follow her back onto the train. I was gone for three days, riding on a rolling hotel."
"Where did he take you?" Hilary had forgotten her earlier request and was listening to Diane’s story.
"I don’t know," the uniformed woman said. "And I didn’t—still don’t—care. After those three days, I knew I had made the right decision in following that woman. I’ve belonged to him for almost six years."
Hilary’s next question was filled with fear, mixed with a healthy dose of curiosity. "What did he do to you?"
"He made me know myself better than I had ever thought possible. How he did it… I couldn’t tell you, but I’ve since been in the same position as that woman who led me onto the train. He did the same to her, but not the same way, not by doing the same things." Upon seeing Hilary’s reaction, Diane added, "He’s very selective. If I were you right now, and didn’t know any better, I would go through with it. But until he gets in the car, and we start moving, you can choose to back out. I’ll even call you a limousine, and he’ll pay for it, no questions asked."
"Won’t he—"
"No, he won’t punish me or bother you again. I’m simply here as a driver tonight," Diane said. "I volunteered to pick him up, one, because I love driving this car. Two—he’s still a man of my dreams, and until I find another one, I like being around him." Diane leaned close to Hilary. "Even after six years," she softly said, as if sharing a confidence with a close friend, "I still feel what you feel—what brought you here. Sometimes it’s so intense that I almost can’t stand it when he touches me."
"What is he doing to me?" Hilary whined. "Why have I been hornier than I’ve ever been in my life? And will it ever stop?"
"Yes, it does stop, Hilary." She froze upon hearing his voice. She felt herself get wet and her legs almost collapsed underneath her. No!!! This isn’t what I wanted!!! I wanted to talk to Diane some more, ask some more questions… I’M NOT READY TO MAKE THIS DECISION NOW!!! She tried to avoid looking at him to keep the increasing warmth in her body from consuming her. "You have a decision to make," he resumed. "Should I have Diane call a car for you? You may even have it for the weekend, no strings attached, so that you can take your friends out in style."
"Why would y-y-you do that—f-f-for me when I’m leaving you?" She tried not to cry, but tears were coming up fast. He reached out his hand, and she shouted, "Don’t touch me!!!" He looked amused, not frightened, and obviously didn’t care about the few stares her outburst had gained. "If you touch me, you’ll make me your slave somehow!"
He chuckled and exchanged a glance with Diane. "Hilary, I will not do anything to you that you do not, on some level, desire." His voice was so soft, so gentle, so even, so… alluring. "To answer your earlier question, I have not—‘done’—anything to you. I have simply offered to satisfy your curiosity, nothing more, nothing less. However, it has been a fairly long day, and I would like to go home. I must ask you to make your choice now. Diane, if you will…" Hilary moved away from the car as Diane opened the rear door and he got in, without so much as a backward glance at the young girl.
Diane looked at Hilary. "You owe it to yourself to get in the car," she whispered, while moving slowly towards the trunk as if to get Hilary’s bag. She paused at the trunk, giving Hilary a long look while cocking her head slightly.
"C-c-ca—" Hilary started to say, "call me a cab," but she couldn’t get past the first half of the first word. She just couldn’t say no to him. Turning back towards the limo in resignation, she paused at the door, as if her brain told her body to give her a last chance to back out of this. Diane came over to close the car door, and gave Hilary that same friendly, happy smile, as if she were pleased that Hilary had decided to go through with it. If anything, that made Hilary feel worse, especially when the car door closed, leaving her alone with—him.
As the car began to pull away from the curb, he began to speak to her. "These are the terms to which you have agreed. You will be with me at my home until five o’clock Sunday evening. You will not leave until then. There is nothing to prevent you from leaving, but you will not. You will obey, as best you can, any directives that I may give you, or that another may give you acting on my behalf. I will not irreparably harm you physically or mentally, and at the end of the three days, you may decide if you wish to continue seeing me. If you decide to terminate our relationship, you will never seek me out again, nor will you seek out anyone you should encounter during the next three days. You will not give any sign that you recognize them should you see them on the street, nor will you reveal your personal knowledge of their activities to anyone. Is that clear, Hilary Davis?"
"Y-y-yes. M-m-master," she stuttered, now frightened beyond words.
He reached over to touch her face, and she flinched. When his hand did not waver, she forced herself to accept the contact. It was a gentle caress, comforting despite the situation. "In three days, we shall see if I have earned the right to be so addressed by you, Hilary." She cursed her body as it reminded her of the intensity of her attraction to this man. He turned away, apparently lost in thought, which stilled her desire a little. As they rode on, she realized that she didn’t even know his name. Hilary also realized that she was too afraid to ask.
They rode in silence for the better part of an hour, or maybe longer. He had leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes, but Hilary had no illusion that he was sleeping. The sun had set some time ago, so she had no idea of where they were; she’d never gone in this direction from the airport before. The driver’s window remained closed, so she had abandoned any hope of getting any answers from Diane. The physical excitement of his presence had worn off, leaving her too nervous to sleep, and she was still too frightened to talk. His voice both surprised and excited her when it came. "What are you majoring in?"
"Ummm—business." Hilary got the distinct feeling he was waiting for her to say more. "I’m thinking of going back home to the Boston area for my MBA after I graduate next year."
"Management, or with an eye towards owning your own company?"
"I dunno. I guess I hadn’t thought too much about that."
He sat up slowly. "Being in charge isn’t everything they say it is, Hilary. Fiscal rewards pale against the importance of life’s rewards. Always remember that. Money is not everything." He looked at her with a wry smile, as if he knew what she was thinking. "My family is very old, as are our businesses. While they keep me considerably well off, and allow me to indulge in my most selfish pleasures, I always am acutely aware that those pleasures are the reason I work. If I work to the point that I bypass those pleasures, then I have no reason to work. Therefore, I work to ensure that I have enough for what I like to do, and spend the rest of my time doing it." The car slowed to a stop and the engine was turned off. Diane opened the door, and he motioned for Hilary to wait until he got out. She took his gallantly extended hand and—stepped out into Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. She gaped at the façade of the house—it reminded her of the college president’s mansion. He walked up the steps, and a portly woman handed him a wineglass of something burgundy-red. He raised it. "To you, Miss Hilary Davis. Come in. Your future awaits." She walked slowly towards the house, having forgotten about her luggage, her fears, doubts, and all of her questions.
"I would like to introduce you to Kim, who is taking care of the kitchen during your stay," he said, presenting her to the portly woman, who smiled in a shy manner, saying a quiet, "Hello." He moved past her, taking Hilary by the hand. With a wave of his hand to indicate one of the elegantly furnished rooms, he continued, "This is the living room, where you may or may not be spending some time. Your room is upstairs on the third floor. Diane has taken your luggage there, although I doubt that you will need it. You will spend a good deal of your time here—naked." A small tremor went through her at the last word.
"When are you going to—ummm—ummm—ummm—"
"Have sex with you? Whip you? Make you my slave?" Hilary didn’t want to admit to any of it, but he was right. That was exactly what she wanted to know. "I have already begun to make you my slave. It started the moment you got back into the limousine." She gaped at him. "I will explain, shortly after you’ve had your final introductions, and I’ve resolved some of your other outstanding questions. Now, let’s continue the petit tour, shall we?" Over the next hour, Hilary visited the kitchen, formal dining room, den and library, the garage, along with the cars, and his recreation room which was full of toy trains. "Yes, I do own a real one, as Diane told you," he had answered her question with amusement. "It’s a slightly more-civilized form of travel, hearkening back to a time when distances were covered in days, not hours. Perhaps you shall take a ride in it sometime, should you decide to continue our relationship. Our last stop is in the sitting room, where you shall meet—your guide."
There were two women in the sitting room, both apparently waiting for them. One was a rather large woman who was smoking a cigarette in a holder, while the other was—famous! Hilary couldn’t even think to try to stifle a gasp at the sight of the provocatively dressed black-haired woman. "I see you recognize Gail Hanson, one of our local television news anchors," he said with a smile. Gail stood up, smiled, and proceeded to inspect Hilary after tossing her trademark black mane over her shoulder. Hilary tried not to flinch as Gail caressed the young woman’s nipple through the bra and blouse she wore. "And this is Renée, one of my current favorites." Renée took a long draw from the holder and smiled before raising her chin to exhale slowly. She was definitely fat. Hilary wondered what he saw in the fat girl—he seemed to like a lot of round women. As if in response, he evenly said, "Renée, relieve me while Miss Davis watches." It was a command, not a request, even though his voice did not change in its tone.
Renée stood up and slowly approached him, licking her lips slightly before kneeling at his feet. She took another puff, then unfastened his pants. Ohmigod! She’s going to give him a blowjob right here in front of me! I can’t look—the thought was interrupted when Gail grabbed her head with deceptive strength and purred, "Watch her. Maybe you will be as lucky later tonight." Forced to watch, Hilary couldn’t begin to understand why or how he had chosen Renée for this demonstration of his power. "Watch her eyes, Miss Davis," the news anchor softly cooed into her ear, "watch the expression in them, what she feels about what she is doing for him." Hilary couldn’t break away from the news lady, and so complied. The fat chick was obviously enjoying being used like this, but… there was something else in her eyes. She looked adoringly at her Master with each movement, and even Hilary had to admit there was something sexy about the way Renée was going about her duties. Yes, she enjoyed giving head to him, yes, she was aroused by it, but there was something in her demeanor that said this was something special because she was doing it for him. It lasted much longer than Hilary would have liked, but he signaled the end of the demonstration with a guttural moan, sigh, and smile. Hilary belatedly realized that she was wet, and more than a little turned on.
"Thank you, my dear Renée," he said with a tenderness that sparked a yearning in Hilary to be addressed that way. "You may enjoy the rest of your evening." Renée stood and went back to the couch, reclined, and put another cigarette into the holder, giving him a sultry smile. Hilary could tell that the large woman felt—no, knew she was sexy. Almost sexy enough that Hilary was affected, despite the woman’s size and gender. He smiled back at Renée, with warmth Hilary could almost feel. Right then, she wanted to be Renée. She hadn’t realized that Gail had let go of her sometime ago, and snapped back to reality when he turned to her and said, "Now, Miss Davis, it is your turn. Take your clothes off." She stood and gaped at him, shocked that he would give her that command in such a casual fashion, in front of two other women. "As I said earlier, you will be naked for most of the weekend. At my whim, and my direction. Do you wish to leave now?"
No, she didn’t. Hilary complied, slowly, with trepidation. Gail stood next to him, watching. "She’s a little scared, Master," she correctly noted as Hilary’s bra came off.
"As were you, Gail. Disrobing in front of another woman and a man was so alien to you that you almost quit on the spot."
Turning to Hilary, who was dawdling over the removal of her panties, Gail said, "I am so happy that I didn’t. And you’ll be happy, too. Time for the panties, Hilary. The longer you wait, the less time you’ll have to find out why this is all worth it."
"Can I—ummm—ask a question, Master?" Hilary meekly began. He winced at her, was going to say something, but then apparently thought better of it. He waved at her to continue. "How many—slaves—do you have?"
"Actively, about five," Gail replied for him. "There are many more of us who aren’t regular companions, such as myself or Renée. I choose not to because being at his beck and call puts me at odds with my professional life."
Renée spoke next. "My darling husband always comes first. But Master is special, and he gives me something my husband can’t." Hilary was totally confused now. "You’ll find out, but it goes way beyond the sex." Hilary couldn’t believe that he would cause a woman to cheat on her husband. No, that was a lie. Hilary would have divorced Nicholas Cage to be with this man.
"Let’s go downstairs now, Miss Davis. Leave your clothes here," he said lightly. His voice was always so commanding, even when he spoke normally. Any thought of hesitating or resisting vanished. Her rational mind tried to shout to her that she was about to do something very dangerous, but it was drowned out by the chorus of her body and soul, one that grew in volume and harmony with every step she obediently took behind the man she wanted to call "Master" and Gail.
She followed them downstairs to his basement. When he turned on the lights, Hilary swallowed loudly. She was in a bondage dungeon! There were all kinds of equipment for hitting people with hanging on the walls and several devices that sent a shudder through her, even though she had no idea what or how they were used. She had a feeling that she would find out, and wasn’t too positive that she’d like it. "Have a seat over there, Hilary," he said, indicating a chair with built-in restraints. She meekly followed his instructions, any thoughts of running away from this erased as she walked past him, instantly dissipated by his proximity. "Gail is going to fasten you to the chair. Do you object?"
Hilary managed to squeak, "N-n-no," and sat in the chair. It was soft, fairly plush, and surprisingly comfortable. Gail didn’t move until Hilary had spoken, but once she had, Gail very quickly fastened her wrists to the chair’s arms, and locked her ankles to the base of the chair. The young woman was now naked, bound, her legs slightly spread. In a word, vulnerable, although Hilary wondered how sexual this could possibly be, since only her mouth was readily available. At a nod from him, Gail gently pushed Hilary’s head back, and locked it into place with a restraining collar attached to the head of the chair. Hilary’s fear intensified at the "click".
"And now, Hilary Davis, we will begin your testing." At that, she almost fainted, but Gail gently mopped her face with a cool cloth that pushed the heat and spinning sensation away. "First, let’s talk about why you are here. You are here," he began, "because you are highly sensitive to my force of will. Not every woman is affected, and not all of those who are affected feel it as deeply as you do. Those that you have already met are ones who are sufficiently affected that they have sought me out. I do not attempt to convert women on my own.
"My force of will is not artificial, nor supernaturally created as far as I am aware. It is not a measurable thing. You will continue to be affected by it in my presence for the rest of our lives, Hilary, regardless of your final choice at the end of this weekend. Not all women are affected in the same way. For some, it creates an incredible sexual tension, a maddening physical attraction that they must act upon. Others become submissive, some to the point of exploring, and possibly adopting, a lifestyle change. Still others—" He paused, walking towards her and stood by Gail. "You will obey me in all things, Gail," he said, his voice becoming deeper, yet quieter.
Hilary’s heart sped up, and she could feel herself get wet when Gail softly replied, "Yes… obey… you… always…"
"In a few other women my force of will manifests itself as a deep hypnotic trance," he resumed, leading the entranced (nobody could act that good, could they?) Gail to face Hilary. Gail’s face was blank. She sure looked hypnotized.
"H-h-how did you do that?" Hilary asked, then held her breath. She didn’t know if she was supposed to speak or not.
"Gail has done it to herself. She has fantasized about being hypnotized beyond normal bounds, completely at another’s mercy. I merely provide a very strong focal point for her. Gail, do ten push-ups for Hilary."
"Yes… obey," Gail softly said, and proceeded to do ten military style push-ups. Hilary’s nostrils were flared, and her sex ached. Gail was unaffected, returning to her standing position next to him.
The smile on his face said that he had something up his sleeve. "When I touch your forehead, you will feel your body preparing for an orgasm. From the very first stirrings, these feelings will increase and intensify on their own, surging strongly each time I touch you. You will not have this orgasm until a very special time. You will not be able to have this orgasm until that special time, and you realize that you can not stop this from happening. When I hold your hips with both hands, you will be ready to have that orgasm as it continues to build past the point where you can hardly stand it. But that is not the special time, and you must obey me, so you will not have your release. Do you understand?"
"Yes… I understand. Will not have… orrr-gasm," Gail sighed.
"Your special time will not happen until you hear Hilary say, ‘little wing.’ Only then may you have your orgasm. All of the pent-up energy stored in your body, well past its normal limits will then be able to release. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Gail slowly, happily sighed, a dreamy smile on her face. "—Master."
"Hilary, this is a demonstration of my power and how it works. It is also a test for you; of how you think in sexual terms, of your hidden desires," he resumed. "Gail has put herself into a deep trance for me. She cannot disobey any of my instructions, one of which allows you to trigger her orgasm. Nod if you know the trigger phrase." Hilary nodded, surprised at how excited she was over this. Her heart was beating rapidly and the sexual charge in her system was now secondary to the thrill of having this much—power—over the television news anchor. She had even forgotten that she was bound to the chair. "Have you ever been with another woman?"
"No!" Hilary gasped, shocked by the sudden turn of subject. Oh my god… he’s going to turn me into a lesbian!
He continued in an even, calm voice, all the while regarding Hilary. "Have you ever considered it? Even remotely? Have you ever seen a woman who you find attractive, even for the briefest of instants?"
It seemed as if his eyes were looking through hers, into her soul. Locked into position as she was, she couldn’t look away and relieve that feeling. Sex was a distant, distant thought. Gail was still standing next to him, looking straight ahead, self-mesmerized. He didn’t press Hilary for an answer, which was good, because she couldn’t lie to him. Instead, he turned and kissed Gail, a deep, passionate kiss. Hilary immediate felt her heat start to rise as Gail’s arms fluttered loosely for a few moments, then wrapped around his body, her hands going to his head as their kiss continued. The raven-haired woman moaned into his mouth, her pelvis beginning to move. They kept kissing, only breaking for a few seconds, allowing Hilary to see the hunger in his eyes and the growing need in hers, before resuming. Gail began to rub her lower body against him, her moans becoming more frequent, louder, even though muffled, and more urgent. One of his hands moved to her ass, caressing it, causing Gail to arch her back and sigh loudly. She was in need now, as was Hilary. The blonde girl was almost as affected by the display of passion in front of her as the participants. Both she and Gail were in a similar predicament; neither one could do anything about their maddening heat.
His lips moved to Gail’s neck, whose hips were pumping regularly now, her hands pulling him towards her. She gave a soft groan as his teeth met her flesh, both his hands active over her clothed body. Strong hands caressing, stroking, touching, teasing with his nails, even as he was licking, nipping, kissing, sucking at any of her exposed skin. Her back was arching, bringing her lower body into closer contact with his, silently urging him to end this foreplay and to take his pleasure of her. Gail slowly, sensuously, continuously rubbed against him. She could only hang on, sighing, moaning, and gasping at his ongoing attentions. One foot came off the floor, and he wasted no time in caressing the exposed calf. Gail’s balance deserted her as a small tremor went through her body. Hilary was panting softly, her hips beginning to move of their own volition. The chair began to get damp.
He unfastened Gail’s dress, immediately flicking his tongue over her cleavage. Her hands involuntarily balled into fists for a moment, as she gurgled, moaned, and her entire body shuddered, before her hands unclenched and returned to grasp feebly at his hair. So did Hilary’s. Gail’s bra was the next item of clothing to be released. As his hands roamed over Gail’s body, her dress, and then her bra seemed almost to melt off of her, reappearing in a heap on the floor at her feet. Hilary was incredibly hot as she watched the man of her dreams fondle, kiss, lick and tease the local television anchorwoman into a frenzy of sexual desire and need. Oh yes, it was clearly beyond hunger at this point as Gail’s hips moved in thrusts now, her moans dissolved into soft panting. Her arms waved loosely as he continued to lick at her, flicking an engorged nipple with a fingernail before using his lips and teeth. All the while his free hand roamed her body, creating an incredible, tangible, sexual tension throughout Gail, Hilary, and the entire room.
He gave Gail one last, long, hungry kiss, their mouths sealing for an eternity. "Now I am ready for you Gail," he quietly said as they parted. She unfastened his pants, then allowed him to step out of them before removing his underwear. He simultaneously removed his shirt. Hilary regarded him hungrily. Bound as she was, that didn’t stop the sights and the sounds from affecting her. She could smell her own arousal, a fire deep between her legs, but one that she couldn’t touch. She saw Gail turn and lean over her, the woman’s hands bracing themselves against the chair back on either side of her head. Over Gail’s shoulder, Hilary watched as he moved towards Gail, then watched Gail’s face get pushed closer to her own. The TV woman softly cried, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh…" as the first telltale slurps of slow intercourse resonated within the room.
Hilary had never seen the ecstasy of sex before. Now Gail’s face, mere inches from hers, told the entire story of each thrust, gentle or hard, fast or slow, shallow, or deep. Her eyes would roll loosely in their sockets or pop wide open, only to become half-lidded as intense sensation gave way to pleasurable sizzle. Gail gasped, moaned, purred, and whimpered as her body received her Master. Hilary watched, fascinated by the nuances of every facial gesture and contortion. Gail knew Hilary was there, occasionally allowing a sparkle of mischief to reach her eyes, only to have it vanish when her Master would touch her in a special place inside, and they would roll up into her head momentarily and then return unfocused. Even though Hilary could feel Gail’s breath on her face, coming in quiet gasps, she knew that at those moments, Gail was beyond any sensation other than that of her Master. Soon, Gail’s entire body was a series of ripples, the gasps becoming gurgles and the eyes rolling freely in their sockets. Still, Hilary watched, their faces scant inches apart.
"G-g-g-ng-ng-gng…" was the song coming from Gail’s mouth, everything trapped in her throat, her eyes doing that wonderful dance, her body seemingly fluid, moving in soft waves, the scent of her passion filling the air around Hilary. Indeed, Gail’s passion dripped onto the chair, dampening Hilary’s thighs even more as it mixed with the young blonde’s own. Her face flushed, body somewhere beyond pleasure, the news lady was awesomely—beautiful. Hilary’s lips parted, unconsciously, and suddenly Gail’s lips were right there… They kissed. Hilary’s mouth eagerly receiving Gail’s, tongues circling, mouths sealed… It felt like bliss for eternity, until they reluctantly broke apart. Gail’s expression was one of tenderness, making Hilary’s body vibrate outside and dance inside in a celebration of sexuality. Gail’s eyes rolled again, her face glazing with the blank expression of extreme sexual thrill… and the moment was over.
Hilary was so wet, so hot… so… horny. She needed to cum. She needed to cum now. Gail’s eyes were constantly rolling around, and she was singing now, the letter "O" in a soft, alto vibrato. Hilary knew what she had to do. She strained forward as much as she could, and said, "little wing."
Gail’s reaction was immediate. "FUCK!" she squeaked, eyes popping wide open, lips forming a perfect "O". Something splattered onto the chair, but Hilary was quickly losing her own awareness, her own hips suddenly snapping towards the sky, restrained only by her anchored legs. There was a moaned kiss, hands in her hair, a woman’s scent… then nothing.
"Ohhhhhhh," Hilary sighed, startled that her attempt to move failed. She closed her eyes forcefully, then blinked a few times as she tried to make her mind work. She remembered… a kiss… a woman… Gail… She tried to shake her head but realized that something was holding her in place… It all came back to her in a mad rush… but before any fear could reassert itself, her body sent a soft, stimulating, throb to her brain, causing her muscles to lose tension for an instant. Whew. That was the first time I’ve ever had that happen. On the heels of that came the somewhat amazing realization, And I haven’t even really been touched, let alone fucked yet! She also realized that there was something against her legs. More accurately, it was someone. Gail was sitting on the floor in a state of semi-collapse, her head and hair resting on Hilary’s thighs. She’d moan softly from time to time, not really moving. As Hilary’s thoughts returned to order, she looked up to see—him. He was still naked and erect. Her mouth watered of its own accord.
"Yes?" he asked with more than a hint of amusement in his voice. Hilary stifled a giggle; she never thought that a dominant could be so casual and off-handedly funny. They were supposed to be all serious and ready to punish you at a moment’s notice. "Ummm… ummm…" A lot of things were running through her head; she wanted to know if she passed the test, she wanted to know if this meant she was really bisexual, she wanted to know how he had made her have an orgasm by screwing another woman. All that came out was, "Can I… ummm… help you?" She licked her lips and wondered what it would taste like, especially with Gail all over it. He smiled at her, and she felt wet and hot again.
"Let’s let Gail wake up first, Hilary," he tenderly said, and she melted. The room was silent for a while, Gail’s soft gasps and whimpers the only punctuation. His erection diminished some, but not as much as Hilary would have thought. "Viagra for recreational purposes," he explained with an open smile, again displaying his talent for reading her mind. "I read your face, Hilary," he replied to her unspoken question. "You are still young in many respects, and you are not very adept at hiding your thoughts. Most boys near your age, and many men would not recognize the signs, and those that did would not be so bold as to tell you openly, which is why you haven’t heard about this it before. But if you’ve ever looked at a male and been sexually interested, if he’s come over to you and ‘talked’ to you…" A light bulb went on in Hilary’s head as she heard him explain her only one-night stand. At the time, she couldn’t believe that the guy she thought had been so sexy was interested in her. "While we wait, do you have any questions that you think I can answer now?"
She shook herself from her reverie. "Umm… maybe." Hilary forced herself to forget about his semi-erection and thought for a few moments. "Did I pass?"
"The testing has only just begun, Hilary, but in the context of grading an exam, yes, you passed." Her legs quivered as the thrill returned. Hearing that made her very happy. Before she could ask another question, Gail suddenly sat up.
"Ohhh… Wowwww…" She looked up, first at him, then at Hilary. "Good nap, but I don’t think I can stand up right now," Gail said. Hilary chuckled as a stray thought about the anchorwoman saying that while naked during the six o’clock news went through her head. "What’s so funny? You damn near killed me," Gail lightly said, taking a loud, deep breath afterwards. "I didn’t ever think you were going to say it."
"What, ‘little wing’?" Hilary shot back, surprising herself with her own sauciness. She was also slightly disappointed when Gail did not go back into orgasm. She wanted to see it again. Maybe even closer this time, and not locked down, that’s for damn sure.
"She’s a keeper," Gail said, turning to address him. She reached up to take him in her mouth, and he hardened quickly, accompanied by a pleased moan. Gail smiled, especially with her eyes. Hilary felt hot and extremely bothered. Please touch me! she inwardly screamed. I’ve been naked since I’ve been here and I’ve had to watch you with two other women already! This is killing me! He stroked Gail’s hair as the woman demonstrated another of her oral talents. Delivering the news was never like this. The frustration of not being touched was starting to drive Hilary nuts. On the one hand, she was growing resentful of him, treating her like a disinterested observer, yet, because of his inattention, she wanted him all the more.
He pulled away from Gail (how much self-control does he have?) and unfastened Hilary’s head restraint. Before she could react, he was out of her range, back at the foot of the chair. Hilary rolled her neck to relax the stiffness. Suddenly, she felt her body slide forward as the chair reclined. At the same time, her still-locked-in-place legs were spread just a little more. This was not a standard bondage chair. She watched Gail shift position, and quickly realized what Miss-"your channel 8 news" was about to do. Feel repulsed feel repulsed feel repulsed this is sick nonono I don’t want this… When Gail’s hands met Hilary’s inner thighs, all homophobic thoughts vanished with a moan. Gail stroked her inner thighs with the lightest of touches, and Hilary wanted to be touched some more. "Oooh, she likes it," Gail grinned. Gail’s tongue met Hilary’s secret place, and the blonde’s back arched off the chair as much as she could, given her restraint. Hilary’s eyes closed as the world blurred, pure electricity surging through her body as another woman orally pleasured her. "She’s very, very sweet, too," Gail commented, an unwelcome interruption. Hilary wanted to push the woman’s head back between her legs in the worst way. A very unfamiliar scent filled her nostrils, and she opened her eyes to see his erection. Hillary opened her mouth and urged him on with her eyes. It only took a few seconds for Gail’s attentions, and the realization of her dream to have an effect.
"Oh!!! Oh!!! Oh!!! Oh!!! MMMMMFFFFF!!!!!!!!" The orgasm ripped through her, a different feeling than the ones she’d previously had from masturbation or intercourse. It didn’t linger very long, and instead of feeling sated, Hilary got hotter and wetter, something she didn’t think was possible. He walked away from her mouth, and knelt at the foot of the chair. After giving Gail another long, wet kiss, he positioned himself at Hilary’s gate. He smiled tenderly again, and after what felt like aeons, entered. His first thrust made the world blur to nothing but fuzzy shapes. As he pulled out, everything became crystal-clear. All of her senses seemed to become supernaturally sharp. The re-entry was everything Hilary had been hoping for, wanting, needing from him. It was all that, and so much more.
The strongest orgasm of Hilary’s young life hit her with hurricane force. Her body locked and an intense flash of white light obliterated her sight and seemed to render her deaf as well. The pleasure was almost painful in its intensity. She clamped onto him, buried inside her, greedily pulling at him, unwilling to let him go, an ecstatic scream leaping from her soul… she sang his praises in a language only she could understand, as loudly and as long as she could. Then her muscles released, and she melted into the chair, the rest of the world in soft focus, her lungs gasping for air. He was still hard inside her, and his next movement triggered an aftershock that threatened to send her spiraling out of control yet again. Suddenly, she was empty, her body thrilling to his exit. Hilary’s next realization was that he was standing over her, obviously expecting her to finish him, but how much time had passed since he’d pulled out?
"Taste the three of us," Gail whispered. "There will be so many nights for you like this with him, Hilary. This is only the barest beginning of your relationship. Taste us, and serve him. Now, and forever…" The blonde’s mind was still fogged, but whatever the newswoman said was delivered in such seductive, sweet-sounding tones that Hilary knew she wanted it. She took him in her mouth, bobbing her head slowly. As her mind cleared, she became more energetic, listening to Gail’s constant litany of lust, an ode to the joys of being Master’s slave. This was what Hilary wanted more than anything else right now; more than her business degree, more than any job or financial reward. His moan and increased movement spurred her on to redouble her efforts. He sighed loudly, signaling the impending completion of Hilary’s task. His hips thrust at her mouth; she accepted his gift, all of it, this most intimate essence of his. This was her declaration of her intent to belong, not just for this weekend, but beyond.
"Excellent, Hilary," he purred at her. She smiled, feeling wicked, lewd, and extremely satisfied with herself. Now she understood Diane, Renée, Gail, and the lady at the night club. She was going to be one of them. No matter what she had to do this weekend.