It is dark. Outside the rain has soaked the earth. The moon hangs heavy from the sky, giving light to just a small spot of Earth. With the rain glistening off the tar-paved roads, the town seems darker, more foreboding than before. It is quiet now. The only sound left in the night is the sharp tap of your high heels as you walk up my driveway. I can see you now, high heels, black nylons, garter belt and ruby red lips. All this to please me. This is my pleasure that I have demanded from you.

And I am aware that you will do my every bidding. There is a deep satisfaction within me knowing that I will have you here, giving you the utmost pleasure a man can give to a woman. It is the slave who seeks pleasure tonight, it is the slave who will give in to the master, knowing that the master takes the pleasure without regret.

When you enter my front door, the fantasy into your passions begin. All that you crave, desire, lust for will be fulfilled. All you have ever desired will be yours if only you do my bidding. Be my slave for this night, and forever more there will be no other.

The knock on the door comes gently, out of fear, out of respect. The master waits for a second knock. Again the knock comes quietly, out of respect. And again the master will let the slave wait until he is ready. The slave is tempted to ring the doorbell. But she knows that if she does, the master will not answer, will leave her standing outside. Quietly, and again out of honor and loyalty to the master, she knocks a third time.

The master knows that his will is utmost and the slave must wait for his reply. Now the rain falls again. The slave, standing outside, waits patiently for her master to give her permission to enter. And so she stands there, knowing that she is the obedient one and must do her master's bidding. Finally, one more knock and an answer is given: "Enter."

 She slowly turns the door knob, her heart racing with anticipation and excitement of how she may pleasure her master. Her breasts are heaving, her breath is heavy with anticipation. Her mind races to what will happen, of things to come.

She steps inside the darkened room. There is only one light, coming from a candle. In the darkness she can see her master sitting. The candle is next to him. She bows her head in deference to him. She hangs her head, afraid to let her eyes meet his. "Come," he commands. "Stand here. In the light." She hastily obeys.

There in the darkness of one candle, he surveys her. She is wet, water dripping from her hair, her clothes clinging to her tightly. She is cold. "You are dripping on my carpet," the master sternly tells her. "Are you some dog, daring to wet my carpet?" She refuses to cast her eyes upon him. She has not been given permission to speak, let alone look upon him. "Well, speak, slave," he commands.

 As she starts to address him, the master stops her. "You will pay for this transgression, slave," he commands. "On your knees." Quickly, she falls to her knees, again not wanting to let her gaze meet his. On her hands and knees, she is but a plaything for him now. He rises, stands above her and circles slowly.

"For soiling my carpet, I need to punish you," he tells her. She can only listen, await his commands. Her head bowed down in silence. She wants to please the master, wants so much to do his bidding. She is trembling inside, shaking at his every word, at his silent movements.

He is standing in front of her now, and she is aware of the rope he has in his hands. Slowly he brings the rope across her back, down her butt. His actions are purposeful, deliberate, taunting and teasing. She knows what he wants, she knows what to expect this night. She can only wait with anticipation and hunger. She wants to satisfy his every lust thereby serving him as he demands.

Finally, he stand behind her. The rope dangles upon her behind, burning up against her skin. He slowly drops the rope and then falls down next to her. "Shall I tie you up? Is that what you want?"

 She wants to say yes, wants to let him know how much she will do whatever he wants. But he has not given her permission to address him. And so, she waits for his next move....and the Master gives his orders, while he thinks of what is to come...

My mind is whirling, lost in devilish thoughts of you. Standing at a church altar late at night. The wind howls at the door, footsteps echo softly down the aisle, a row of candles lights the darkened chamber. You stand looking at the altar, transfixed by the darkness and the shadows.

You are here because I asked you to come, wanted you here tonight, this way: dressed only in high heels, silk garters and elegant black nylons embracing your wonderful, milky legs, and a long flowing dark dress. You are anticipating, expecting a night of unbridled passion.

Your heart races with sheer excitement at the picture of possibilities I've planted within you: silk restraints to bind you tightly, blindfolds to deprive you of sight, a gag to mute your moans and pleadings. You stand there, looking side to side, awaiting an order, a slight word to let you know what's next.

But there are no words, no outside sounds to pierce the deathly silence. The only noise you hear is the echoing of your heart as it beats in anticipation.

Suddenly, there to your right--a figure cloaked in darkness. Hooded and draped in black, he has seen your every move, is aware of your every thought. He is kneeling, bent over in supplication. In the darkness, you only see the outline of his hood.

But your imagination is alive, ignites with the intensity of leather binding cutting into your full breasts, restricting their movements and exposing them to full view. You stand weak in the knees, ready to do whatever bidding is asked of you.

The figure remains in the darkness, his only movement is a slight breath. You want to step closer. But you have not been commanded, have not been given permission to move. So, you must wait.

Without sound, the cloaked figure moves up, slowly stepping to the altar. His arms are folded, his head remains bowed. As he approaches the altar he turns to see you standing there. He is watching you now, aware of your desires. With one hand he beckons you, summons you to come closer. Without words he commands you to move closer, stand in front of him so that he might find pleasure in your body, in your desires, in your lust.

Now, in front of him, you sense the coarseness of his robe. It is his shield, his wall to deprive you of your sensations tonight. He beckons you closer, forcing the harshness of his cloak upon your body. You tremble, heart racing, hands shaking to let him take from you. You are ready to do his every word, his every command. And yet he stands there, letting every thought tease you, force you to realize your own lust and desire.

He steps closer to you, his breathing mingling with yours. You sense his breath upon your lips, his hands next to your side. You can hear your body scream, shouting out cruel thoughts at his wickedness.

Finally, he speaks, soft words, gentle words of what's to come this night. As he speaks, you notice the glint of light upon his wet lips and your lust and passions run amok. He licks his lips, a promise of delight to come.

Without a word he touches you, slowly gliding his hand upon your creamy neck. His fingers drop down, slowly undoing one button at a time. Finally, when the last button is released, he brings his lips to the softness of your breasts and leaves hot, wet kisses. You are ready to give when suddenly, he steps back. Turns away from you, his back is all you see. You begin to feel the coldness of the night, embrace the coolness that now touches your body.

Slowly he turns back to meet your gaze. He summons you again, to step onto the altar, next to the crucifix. Stand there with him as the image of Jesus on the cross glares down at you. "I want you here," he commands. "Show Jesus your body. Show Jesus how you are my slave." Do you dare?

Your mind is awash with contradictions, with questions. Do I let my master defile me here? There is no time to answer the question, no time to ponder if there are any consequences. He is there, now, suddenly. Slowly removing your bra, using his tongue to force you to give into his desires. He will not allow you escape, will not allow you leave.

You are helpless, a willing slave to his every word, his every utterance. You feel the rope bind your hands, darkness envelope you as your eyes are denied sight. His hands cover your mouth, blocking your words, your gasps from escaping into the night air...

To tie you up on a crucifix, to bind you tightly and then to make love to you that way... To fall down at your feet as you are bound, arms spread, legs bound and just explore your body with my tongue and mouth and hands...to use a probe, a whip, a cane, a dildo all over you, to gag your mouth so that no sound can be made, to rip off your clothes in a moment of extreme passion and lust.

To bind your breasts, to lock your hands to the cross so that you're completely helpless and ready. I want you that way...completely nude, so helpless as I worship you on your cross, fall down on my knees as I use my tongue to probe deeper and deeper, and then tie you up face down on the cross so that your lovely butt is exposed to me and I can lick on it, suck it. I'd use my riding crop to give you hours of sensations...feel the lash upon your beautiful, red butt.

Your hands are restricted, your eyes shut off from sight, your mouth shut and unable to make a sound...and your breasts are encased in ropes, bound so that the nipples are raw, ready to explode, screaming for a hot tongue to lick them...

I climb from behind, my cane lubricated, my penis ready to plunge deeply inside of you...I want to ram myself inside of you, want to take the rock-hard cane and thrust up your sweet vagina as my penis explores your hot butt...I can feel the cum ready to explode, sense that you are dripping with lust, on fire. You are at my command, my every whim.

Shall I penetrate you now? Or shall I lightly whip you, bringing down the lashes that cause you pain and sheer delight? I know you're enjoying yourself, that you are in a frenzy of pleasure that will continue until you beg for relief, scream for release.

Scream, scream? I won't let you scream, won't let you utter a sound...my hand is over your mouth, your eyes are closed to my every movement...you only feel the shadow of my presence there, are only aware of the inner sensation between your legs, the beat of your heart as it crashes against your chest. Deprived of all outward senses, you are now mine...