The two young women, one holding my hand, led me up the porch stairs and into the house.
The foyer was beautifully tiled, mosaic style, so much to look at that I almost forgot my naked state.
In the middle of the floor, a kneeling stool, covered in pale pink velvet, sat expectantly and obviously awaiting my arrival.
“Here, Miss,” the woman knodded toward the stool, “The Master will expect you to wait for him here.”
Lowering myself, I felt my knees meet the cushion, knowing that this was the deciding point…the moment I would decide whether to become his…the moment he would accept or deny me solace.
The two young women left me there, smiles and backward glances filled good wishes, their smiles open and sweet, eyes wide with hope.
I was left alone beneath the bright glass chandelier.
For what felt like hours.
To the point that my knees began to hurt, my lower back stiffening. And I had to pee.
But, afraid that I was being watched…evaluated…I didn’t move. Not even to stretch my neck.
I heard footsteps behind me, slow and confident, but I didn’t speak. In silence, I felt the anticipation build in my chest and straightened, ready to be inspected. I wasn’t positive it was him, but I behaved as if it were, my posture perfect, my breasts held up like and offering, chin up. My entire being stood at attention.
Musky cologne wafted beneath my nostrils, and I could feel the heat of a body against my back. Two hands swept my cheeks and moved, full-palmed, down my neck and across my shoulders, stopping to squeeze. They were large, strong hands, smooth and warm.
He let go, stepped back, and ran his fingertips down my spine.
“Lean forward,” his voice was deep, husky, and a thick southern accent made it heavy and slow like molasses. I felt it vibrate against my skin as I leaned forward, placing my hands flat on the tile. His fingers traced the crease from the top of my ass, spreadng my cheeks to inspect what hid between.
“Spread your knees.”
I did as commanded, arching my back downward, exposing myself further, my sex accessible, something suddenly cool and wet dripping over it, his fingers rubbing between my ass cheeks and labia, finger and thumb probing both asshole and cunt, gripping me like a bowling ball.
Flushing, heat travelled down my face and moved like lava across my throat to my chest.
He worked me, pushing and pulling, a second hand’s fingers circling and pinching my clit.
Gasping, I let slip a whimper followed by a soft moan.
Removing his hands, I heard him back away slowly.
“The girls will show you to your room. I expect you for dinner at eight. You will remain naked in this house.”
My hands remained firmly planted on the floor until I could no longer hear his footsteps, my cunt clenching with unsatisfied need.
My heart leapt at the denial.