Ticaloc's Stories
A Master is Born by Ticaloc
A Master is Born
Prologue
The year was 1968. I had just celebrated my 20th birthday. As a reward for scholastic excellence, my father arranged for me to accompany him to the West Coast on business. It began an adventure that would change my life forever... . .
During each business day, my father's time was consumed with endless meetings, none of which held any interest for me at all. It was the evenings I lived for.
Our host, a very wealthy businessman, invited us to his home located just off the Pacific Coast Highway, overlooking the Ocean. For a young mid-westerner, I was quite impressed. However, I was even more taken with a vivacious young woman who always accompanied our host. In fact, I was quite taken with her and found it difficult to keep my eyes off her.
At some point during our third evening at the mansion, Our host, sought me out and asked me to join him in his study. Fearful that I had in some way offended him, I hesitantly agreed. Timidly, I entered the spacious study, rich in wood trim and leather furniture. Matus had seated himself in a rather large overstuffed, leather covered chair. He motioned for me to seat myself across from him. Nervously, I tried to make myself comfortable. Once my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, I discovered that Monica, looking absolutely gorgeous in a svelte black sheath, stood beside him.
I cleared my suddenly dry throat and tried to speak with some authority. "Sir, I hope that I have not offended you in any way that would reflect on my father." He smiled, took Monica's hand, and stroked it.
"Ah," he replied. "Quite the contrary. You have been invited here because I have observed a certain potential in you." I was taken so aback that I simply did not know how to reply. He continued.
"I have seen your interest in Monica," he began. A tight knot formed in the pit of my stomach. "And I have watched her respond to your interest."
"Sir," I replied quickly. "I want you to know that I meant no disrespect ..."
He held up his hand to silence me.
"Your interest in her has only increased my interest in you. It is precisely why you are here at this moment."
Still, I didn't understand.
"Monica," he said quietly. "Present yourself to young Jonathan."
"Yes, Master," she replied. Monica stepped forward and stood before me, her eyes lowered. Deliberately, she loosened the black sheath from her shoulders. Moments later, it pooled at her feet. She stood before me completely nude. Slowly, she raised her arms and put her hands behind her head. Finally, she arched her back so that her full, firm breasts were thrust forward. My eyes drank in her every detail. The slim waist, the sensuous flare of her hips, the neatly manicured patch that almost covered her mostly bare pussy lips. My cock rose instantly and strained for release beneath the fabric of my slacks. My mouth gaped opened.
"She is rather lovely, isn't she?" Matus remarked. Not trusting my voice, I simply nodded. He arose, disappeared briefly into a dark corner of the room. When he returned, his hands fondled a riding crop.
"The interesting thing is that even lovely sluts like Monica need constant training and correction." Suddenly, without warning, the crop whistled through the air and landed squarely upon Monica's ass cheeks. The sound of leather hard against bare flesh filled the room. Monica lurched forward under the impact, but remained standing. Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip, but was otherwise silent.
"Monica knows better than to interact with guests without my specific permission." Again the crop was dispatched to her bare ass and again the unmistakable sound of leather on tortured flesh resounded off the walls.
The sight of this lovely young woman being cruelly punished had an interesting, unexpected effect on me. To my complete shock, I found myself intrigued by the events and wanted more than anything to see what would be the final outcome. I didn't have to wait long.
"Jonathan?" The host called me by my name for the first time.
"Yes, Sir?" I replied. "Please, Jonathan, when we are in private like this, you may address me as Matus... Mah-toos, like the wine."
"Yes Sir ... 'er Matus," I replied.
"Jonathan, come here. I want you to observe the effects of Monica's punishment."
I stood on rather shaky legs and walked around the still standing, naked woman. Two deep red welts appeared in a criss-cross pattern across her ass cheeks.
"Go ahead," Matus encouraged. "Run your hand across them."
Hesitantly, I extended my finger and traced the raised welts. Monica flinched and was unable to keep from crying out.
Matus handed me the crop. "Here, Jonathan, add two of your own." I was dumbfounded and simply stared at the crop that he lay across my palms. "Make them as good if not better than mine. Do it, Jonathan ... do it now!"
Something inside of my suddenly came alive and took control. Something deep-seated and powerful. I watched as my arm seemed to take on a life of its own, raised, then descended. I heard the crop singing its way to the mark. It impacted her left ass cheek squarely. I heard her cry out. Before she could recover, I gave her another on the opposite cheek. She burst into tears. I stood there, holding the crop unaware that I was actually panting from the intensity of the moment. Matus patted me on the shoulder and removed the crop from my hand.
"Well done, Jonathan... well done. I knew that I was not wrong about you."
I watched as Matus took a small crystal vial and carefully filled it with the tears that streamed down Monica's face. When it was full, he presented it to me. "Take her tears with you to remind you of this moment."
At the end of the week, my father returned home. I remained with Matus for the rest of the summer. It was a summer that would forever change my life.
CHAPTER 1 - THE AWAKENING
Unable to sleep, I lay in my hotel bed and stared upward at the dark ceiling. In my mind, I relived the stunning events of the evening just past in vivid detail... .
Filled with a curious mixture of raw emotions, I had left Matus' study and rejoined the party. I had just witnessed and participated in the most intense sexual experience of my young life. To say that it aroused me would be a gross understatement. However, it was more than that ... much more. Somewhere deep inside me, much deeper than my throbbing loins, I felt as if a fire had suddenly ignited. Even as I casually rejoined my father and his business associates, I could feel the heat rising inexorably upward, a heat that would eventually consume my entire being.
A few minutes later I watched from across the room as Monica emerged from the study. The perfect host, she moved easily among the guests. What a cordial countenance she exuded. I admired her from afar, marveling at the ease with which she flowed from person to person, a smile here, an endearing word there. No one in the room would ever suspect that only a few minutes earlier she had stood before me, naked, writhing under the impact of the crop I wielded. How easily her body flowed beneath the simple yet elegant silk sheath that shrouded her svelte body. Someone offered her a chair. I smiled when she graciously declined. Ever so slightly allowed her hand to brush across the silk that covered her still throbbing ass cheeks. That simple gesture caused the fire inside me to explode. The conflagration registered on my brain as power, the power of knowledge and control. I, and I alone possessed the knowledge that the lovely, vivacious host, Monica carried on her bare naked body, marks that I placed there. I swooned beneath the heady impact of that realization and the power of that control.
The next morning I stood in the foyer of the hotel and watched as my father's cab disappeared into traffic. It was one of the few times in my life that I was completely alone ... and it felt so good. So good in fact that I failed to notice the white limousine that had glided to a stop under the canopied hotel entrance.
"Jonathan?" a voice called out. I swiveled my head in the direction of the sound. Monica waved from the window of the limo.
"Jonathan, are you ready to join us?" I needed no further encouragement. Quickly I closed the distance between us and joined her in the intimate atmosphere of the limo. Noiselessly, we sped away. I did not care where we were going as long as Monica was nearby.
"Jonathan," she said quietly. "We need to talk ... about last night."
I started to protest, but she silenced me by placing her index finger against my lips. I drank in the sensation of her warmth and resisted the urge to take it into my mouth. My eyes went directly to her full, firm breasts covered only by a sheer white silk blouse that did nothing to conceal her very hard, erect nipples. I felt her finger beneath my chin. She raised my face until our eyes met.
"Last night was very special," she said. "But, Jonathan, there is much to learn from Matus ... and I will not be available to you again ... until he decides that the time is right."
Her words gnawed at the pit of my stomach. I stared at her and found only resolute confirmation in her eyes. We rode in a kind of stiff silence for several minutes. I had laid awake for most of the night contriving devilishly erotic plans to further explore and exploit her lovely body. And now, only hours later, I was being told that I must wait? My mind swirled, filled with a black bile of total and complete frustration. All the while, my fingers played nervously over the electrical buttons that controlled the windows. One button, I noticed, was labeled "privacy".
"How long until we reach the villa?" I asked in a sullen tone.
"About an hour," she replied.
I stared out of the window with unseeing eyes. Suddenly, I felt the fire. I did not fight it. I extended my index finger and pressed the privacy button. An opaque shield rose silently and sealed us from the driver's view.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I want to see you naked," I replied curtly. "I want to see the marks I put on your ass cheeks last evening."
"But Jonathan, I ... I don't think ..." I held up my hand to cut her off. Instantly, she fell silent.
"Would you rather have me tell Matus how you disobeyed such a simple command?" I asked in a deliberate voice. It sounded suddenly strange even to myself.
"No, ... Master," she replied softly. "I would not want that." Monica lowered her eyes and remained silent for several moments. Then she leaned forward, and began to slowly unbutton her silk blouse.
The phrase, "Master" resounded in my ears. Never before had anyone uttered those words to me. Yet, how completely natural it all sounded. Moments later, her totally nude body embraced the leather upholstery of the limo.
"Hands at your side," I heard myself say. "Or perhaps I you would rather that I render them useless behind your back?"
She shook her head and instantly dropped her hands to her side. For the next few miles, I allowed myself to explore her body freely. My fingers roamed across her breasts, squeezed and tweaked her nipples, traced the outline of her full red lips, harshly parted her thighs, and delved deeply into the narrow furrow of her neatly trimmed pubes. She made no protest. However, when the meaty tip of my index finger lingered upon her exposed, hardened clit, she closed her eyes, chewed her lower lip and gasped.
"Upon your knees," I commanded. "Head down, ass up. Properly display those punished ass cheeks."
With measured moves, she slowly situated herself as I had commanded. In the close confines of the limo, she pressed her face against the leather seat and managed to present her splayed ass cheeks in a very agreeable manner. The marks of the crop were still quite evident. She flinched and moaned as my fingers traced the entire length of each one. The movement of the speeding limo caused her ass to sway seductively back and forth. Her distended love lips emerged rather prominently. I slipped my hand between her thighs and urged them further apart. From that vantage point, I marveled at the drops of wetness that had quickly pooled at the opening of her love-mouth. I continued my examination of her marked ass with one hand, while the other busied itself with the saturated wetness between her legs. She moaned and writhed beneath my hands. More wetness spilled out of her and trailed down the inside of her thigh. Again and again, I opened and closed my fingers, thus milking the dewy wetness out of her until it covered the palm of my hand completely.
"Please, Master," she begged. "Oh please let me come ... I do want to come so badly." She ground herself hard against my hand, desperately trying to maneuver my finger more tightly against her swollen, throbbing clit.
Just then, the intercom buzzer sounded. "We'll be at the villa gate in about five minutes," the driver intoned. Slowly, I sank two fingers deeply inside her, between her now gaping, slathered love-lips. So far, in fact that my thumb pressed tightly against her small puckered anal opening. "Ohhhhh ..." she gasped as she realized that I could easily penetrate her doubly. Thus she remained impaled upon my hand, unable to move or otherwise extricate herself from this humiliating position. I tightened my grip on her. She cried out in alarm as my thumb slipped past the constricting ring of her anal muscles. She tried to lower herself to a more dignified position. However even her smallest movement served only to force my fingers and thumb more deeply into her. Finally, she realized there was absolutely nothing she could do but submit to whatever I had in mind for her. She didn't have to wait long. I gave her already crop-marked ass cheeks several hard slaps with the palm of my hand. The sound of her cries filled my ears.
"Of course you may come," I said in a mocking tone. "But not until I've learned all that Matus has to teach." With that, I jerked my fingers quickly out of her. She cried out in frustration as she sensed the abandonment. I reached for a handkerchief. She watched, silent and panting, as I carefully wiped her innermost wetness from my fingers.
"Now," I said. "There's just enough time to make yourself presentable." I tossed her the silk blouse and the rest of her clothes that lay on the floor of the limo.
Moments later, we arrived at the villa. As I prepared to leave the limo, her hand covered mine.
"Master," she said quietly. "Twice I have had pain from you." She dropped her eyes and continued. "Perhaps on our next meeting ... I will be worthy of your pleasure."
I lifted her chin and held her eyes steadily in my steady gaze. "Perhaps," I replied. "But only if it should happen to please me." With that I turned and walked into the villa.
True to her word, almost three months passed before she was again available to me. By then, my education served only to heighten the time we had together. Although a considerable period of years has passed since that incredible summer, the vial of her tears and the passion-stained handkerchief remain with me to this day.
CHAPTER 2
Summer was drawing to a close. Soon it would be time to think of returning to the rather bland realities of what now I considered my former existence. In the event-filled weeks just past, my Dominant personae had become more sharply defined and developed. No doubt it would continue to be a permanent part of my psyche. Still, thoughts of Monica remained fresh and alive in my mind.
However, life at the Villa always seemed to take unusual turns. For me, it came by way of a special request from Matus.
Late one evening, near the close of yet another gala affair, Matus drew me aside.
"There's something that needs your attention," he said. He pressed a small gold key into my palm. Please see to it right away." After he left, I opened my hand. A small tag was attached to the key. "Claire," it read.
Claire had been at the villa only a short time. She was a stunning, auburn-haired beauty. Her svelte, lithe body, round ripe breasts, and full, voluptuous ass cheeks presented a provocative, sultry aura. Yet, Claire had one rather obvious misgiving. She exhibited a proud and haughty demeanor which had become apparent almost from the moment of her arrival. I clutched the gold key tighter in my grasp. Obviously, Matus had tired of Claire's constant disruptions.
I inserted the gold key into the lock, threw the bolt, and opened the door. The room was unfamiliar to me. It took several moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, I became aware of a glowing light at the opposite end. The soft halo framed a most delightful and intriguing sight: There stood Claire. Her supple, provocative body clad only in a simple short tunic which barely covered the swell of her ass cheeks. Furthermore, it was open at the sides, held together only by thin ties at the waist.
Upon closer examination, I noted that Claire had been positioned atop two small platforms that rose upward from the floor approximately three feet. They had been carefully placed far enough apart to force her to spread her lovely legs obscenely to maintain her balance. Leather bands encircled her wrists. They, in turn, were attached to anchor points in such a way that held her arms fully outstretched at shoulder height. Her ankles remained unfettered. However, she was acutely aware that any step off the platform would cause her hang, suspended only by her outstretched arms, a potentially nasty and painful consequence. As a final indignity, a bright red ball gag had been inserted between her luscious, full lips.
"Well, Claire," I said with a small grin. "It seems that you are my 'project' for the evening."
My fingers dipped beneath the hem of her tunic to stroke the muscles of her inner thighs. They stood out quite prominently, a mute testimony to the posture she was forced to maintain. She mumbled something in reply. However, the gag prevented all but the most strenuous sounds.
I moved slowly around her, drinking in every detail of her displayed body. Her outstretched arms caused her full ripe breasts to offer themselves in a most delightful manner. It seemed like the logical place to begin. A small tug released the tunic ties. It no longer afforded her any shred of decency. I trailed my fingers across her shoulders and down her arms. From there, I cupped her breasts gently, pressing them up against her body lightly, then letting them fall. She threw her head from side to side in alarm and dismay.
"Oh, this is only the beginning, I assure you," I said with a small smile. Her already stiffened nipples suddenly found themselves trapped between my thumbs and forefingers. Each time I compressed her captive nubs, she whimpered behind the gag. I squeezed them hard enough to be certain that they would ache and burn even after I had gone on to other things.
My hands freely roamed the creamy swell of her ass cheeks. Because she was helpless to resist, I leisurely grasped her smooth, rounded globes and drew them widely apart. She struggled vainly to resist the intrusion. My index finger lightly tapped her tight puckered anal opening. She jumped a bit and rose up onto her toes.
"Time to begin, Claire," I announced. In total despair, she could only hang there, spread and open to me, and await my next move. She did not see me reach for the thin cane. It swished through the air and landed fully across both ass cheeks with a distinctive sound, that of birch against bare flesh. Despite her gag, she emitted a rather healthy scream and pitched forward. Only her tightly tethered wrists kept her from losing her balance. I smiled at the sharp red welt that arose immediately across her pale ass cheeks.
"Only seven more to go, Claire," I intoned. "Only from now on, I want you to count each stroke."
She shook her head violently. I believe she was trying to tell me that the gag prevented her from complying with my request.
"Oh, how right you are," I said with a smile. "There's no way you can do that with the gag in your mouth."
Again, she shook her head.
"Well, then," I replied. "We must think of another way."
Once again I harshly divided her ass cheeks. My index finger pressed sharply against her anal opening. I felt her thighs tense in response to the impending intrusion. However, moments later, despite her muted squeals of protest, my finger overcame the force of her constricting muscles and firmly implanted itself deeply within her ass. Suddenly the utter helplessness of her situation overcame her. Tears streamed down her face. She turned her head and stared at me with pleading eyes.
"You sealed your fate long before I entered this room," I replied. "And it has fallen to me to administer atonement. Do you understand?"
She lowered her head and closed her eyes in resignation. "You'll have to do much better than that, Claire," I said. Her eyes snapped open. "If you understand, let me feel you contract your ass muscles around my finger. Once for yes, twice for no. Now ... do you understand?"
To help her make up her mind, I allowed the tip of the cane to brush harshly across her hardened nipples. Then, I felt it ... she contracted her anal muscles and gave my intruding finger a slight squeeze.
"Good," I replied.
Before she had time to think about what she had just done, the cane whistled through the air again. This time, it caught her on her right cheek. It crossed nicely over the first stroke.
"Are you counting, Claire?" I asked. "Was that number two?"
Again, I felt her squeeze my finger.
"What number was that?" I asked. She replied with two squeezes.
By the seventh stroke, her ass cheeks were quite nicely marked. Her thigh muscles trembled as she squeezed my finger the seventh time.
"Well done, Claire," I remarked.
I dropped the cane. Slowly, my finger retreated from her tortured ass. I stepped away from her. I'm certain that she felt that I was finished with her. She was wrong. I moved directly in front of her. My finger slipped along the edges of her splayed love lips. She whimpered inarticulate sounds.
I opened her, carefully, keeping my eyes on hers. When she looked away, unable to bear my gaze any longer, I thrust two fingers inside her, slipping through her folds like a hand sliding through thick layers of glossy silk. She opened for me easily. She was hot and soaked with her own excitement. Her entire body shook with hunger and ecstasy.
"Your ass was for Matus," I said thickly. "This is for me ..."
In a quick motion, I withdrew my fingers and snapped a lightning-fast slap against her swollen cunt lips, then penetrated her again. I repeated the motions again and again, thrusting into her, then slipping out to deliver another stinging blow.
Soon, she rocked her pelvis in surrender. Suddenly her hip movements became more exaggerated, rising to engulf my fingers, jerking back in reaction to the impact. Her widely stretched thighs shuddered with the pain of the enforced position she was forced to maintain at all costs. Each time I spread her lips widely, she wriggled with explosive agony.
And when the rhythm of the actions built up to a peak from which she could not escape, her hips thrust backward and forth and her breasts heaved with the heavy exertion of her ragged breathing.
"Such a good little slut. Let me see how much you need it," I hissed She thrashed about as much as she could without losing her balance.
"Yes, that's it. Do it. You may come at any time now, but if you don't before I'm finished with you, it may be a long time before you are permitted this opportunity again."
And then the rush hit her as fast as lightning. Her orgasm rippled across her tight flattened belly like a earthquake undulates the ground. She seemed to explode. Her eyes shut tightly. Her thigh muscles shuddered involuntarily. She panted and thrust herself forward again, only slower. I felt her shudders rise into pleasure again and again. Even beneath the constraint of her ball gag, she managed a low guttural moan that quickly escalated into the shrill pitch of absolute ecstasy.
* * *
The next morning, I joined Matus for coffee on the verandah. Not long thereafter, Claire appeared in the archway. In my mind I wondered how long she had remained tethered after I had left. One thing was certain. Her body remained semi-clothed in the tunic. Red imprints from the restraints which had held the ball gag in her mouth still slashed across her cheeks. Barefoot, she made her way across the marble tiles until she stood, head bowed, before Matus. He sipped his coffee and watched her, carefully. No words passed between them. However, Claire knew what was expected of her. Slowly, she turned her back to him, loosened the tunic ties at her waist and swept the material aside to reveal her naked, marked ass.
Matus arose and stood beside her. Slowly, he ran his fingers lightly over the raised welts. With each touch, she flinched and bit her lip, but otherwise remained silent.
"Excellent," he said, looking at me. "Simply, excellent."
I nodded slightly in acceptance of his confirmation.
Matus returned to his chair. "Well, Claire, do you wish to say anything?" he asked.
Slowly, she turned and raised her head. Her eyes met Matus'. Then Claire did a most remarkable thing. She pivoted her body until she faced me. Once again, she swept the tunic aside, revealing her neatly trimmed pubic mound. The reddened imprints of my hand against her delta remained clearly evident.
"Thank you, Master," she said quietly.
Immediately, she turned and fled across the tiles to the interior of the Villa.
Matus sipped his coffee quietly for several moments.
"There is another matter that needs your attention," he said.
As he spoke, he pressed a gold key into my palm. He stood, ready to leave.
"You may see to it at your leisure," he remarked. Questions filled my mind as I watched him depart. I opened my hand. There was a single name on the attached tag. "Monica," it read.
Ticaloc@juno.com
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