GEETWO STORIES - PAGE 062
- NEW DIRECTION -
Inspired the Art Of PowerPC
For 25 years, Miranda Beauchamp had enjoyed every advantage that wealth, education and natural beauty could give her. From the day she was born, her doting parents had spared no effort or expense to make sure that their adored daughter had the best of everything that their vast financial resources could supply and Miranda had grown up in a life of ease and luxury, wanting for nothing.
Their death in an air accident when she was 22 had left her rich, single and with no need to earn a living or do anything she didn’t choose to do. For a year or so, mourning her parents, she barely left her large, secluded home, but as time passed, she started to miss the companionship of others of similar age and background and the parties that had formed the major part of her life before her parents’ death.
Before long she was once again immersed in the social whirl of drink, recreational drugs and casual sex that characterised her relations with the rich young men and women who peopled her world ... but although she tried to recapture the sense of bravado and rebellion she had once shared with them, the whole thing somehow seemed false and immature and she found herself becoming increasingly bored and irritated with their desperate attempts to pretend that they were having fun and that their shallow, meaningless activities were sophisticated and important.
Her own actions had no aim or sense of purpose and the knowledge that she was merely drifting through her life with no specific objective, unsettled her to such an extent that she decided to find herself a role which would require her full involvement and commitment and demand that she focus all her energy and efforts into becoming the best that she could be at whatever tasks her new occupation might bring forth.
The question, of course, was what that role should be ...?
This conundrum occupied her thoughts for almost six months and she was beginning to despair of ever finding a solution ... until she met Allesandro Rocamar at a charity function. In casual conversation she happened to mention her search for something that would fill her days and give her the satisfaction and sense of achievement ... something that her life of parties and socialising could not provide.
Rocamar sympathised, agreeing that he, too, was dissatisfied with the endless round of excesses and short-lived sexual relationships that meant nothing, then added ruefully that although his wealth enabled him to buy almost anything he wanted, it could not purchase him the one thing that he desired above all else.
Curious to find out what that might be, Miranda asked the obvious question ... and was astounded by his response that he not only sought a wife with whom to share his bed and his life, but the one special, unique woman who would willingly undertake the function of becoming his collared and chained bondage and sex-slave.
Assuming that he was joking and could not possibly be serious, she laughingly asked him what duties would be required of this “special” lady and why he imagined any woman would agree to submit herself to such an outrageous notion, but when he simply shrugged and replied that he could not say why such a lady would offer herself as his slave. He added only that the one who did would be trained and disciplined to serve him in any way he ordered and would spend her entire life devoting herself exclusively to his pleasure and satisfaction, just as he would devote his every effort and resource to her subjugation and transformation into the perfect slave. Miranda felt an unexpected and somewhat alarming wave of sexual heat surge through her body. She tried to ignore it and tell herself that it was simply because he was a good-looking, educated, eligible man, who just happened to have an intriguingly kinky twist to the usual, familiar chat-up lines, but as her nipples stiffened and her sex grew moist, she found herself unable to laugh off his words or retain her normal calm composure.
Fascinated despite herself, she licked her lips nervously and replied that she doubted whether he would ever find the woman he was looking for, but that she wished him good luck in his search, then began to turn away. His right hand shot out, gripping her left wrist firmly and as he bent it behind her back and held it pressed against her spine, pulling her against his chest, she gasped and gazed up into his dark eyes. He told her calmly that he suspected that he had just found the woman who would be his wife and life-long slave ...
For long moments, her body tensed in his grasp, her mind racing as she fought to deny his claim and the devastating turmoil of arousal it sent raging through her belly. Already she imagined herself naked and bound in chains before him, then she trembled wildly and pressed her body against his, burying her face in his chest to hide the bright flush that rose to her cheeks when she responded to the intensely erotic images of herself as a slave, flashing through her brain.
Entwining the fingers of his left hand in her hair, he arched her head back until she stared helplessly up at him and as his lips descended on hers and his tongue ravaged her mouth, she whimpered in need and surrendered to the almost-brutal kiss of the man they had both recognised would soon be her husband ... and her unquestioned Master ...
In his long quest to find the ideal woman who would become both his wife and his perfect slave, Allesandro Rocamar had spent many hours planning and refining the details of his dream ... to the point that when Miranda entered his life, he already knew exactly what would be required to achieve his ambition. He’d researched a large number of specialist companies with the skills and expertise to meet his stringent specifications. Having had the good fortune to be born into a life of wealth and privilege, he was accustomed to the highest standards that money could provide and to having his every wish fulfilled, regardless of cost or any problems that his wishes might present to a supplier.
Miranda, too, was used to the luxury and independence that her riches afforded, but from the moment that he captured her in his arms and crushed her soft lips under his, she knew that her life had changed forever and she would spend her life serving him as a slave.
Until that moment, she had never believed that she would ever find a man she could love without reservation or conditions, but as his tongue plundered her mouth and she gasped to the arousal that overwhelmed her body and senses in a storm of sexual passion far deeper and more powerful than she had ever imagined. Her every defence of reason and self-control crumbled and fell to leave her helpless and vulnerable against her own unleashed desires. They were lovers in a night, living together in his mansion within the week, and married in a month ... Master and slave two weeks after that ...
Miranda’s slave collar was a seven cm wide, perfectly curved band of gold-plated titanium, beautifully crafted and shaped for a snug fit around her slender throat. The workmanship of its joints were so fine that only microscopic inspection revealed the hairline, square-jawed seams at the sides of her neck, these concealing the three internal locks on each side, which, in the deliberate absence of any method of release, meant that she would wear the symbol of her enslavement for the rest of her life. Quite literally, it was now a permanent part of her, like it or not and the universally mounted, three cm diameter rings at both he front and back of her neck blatantly denoted her status as a possession.
With her arms encased from fingertips to biceps behind her back in a rigid titanium sheath; this welded to a broad, waist-cinching belt that acted as a corset, in combination with a half-round bar that lifted and supported ... but did not cover her firm breasts ... she was incapable of looking after herself and totally reliant on her Master to supply her with her every need.
Miranda’s ankles, too, were permanently fettered and linked by eighteen inches of titanium chain, restricting her freedom still further, harshly limiting her steps to the length dictated by her Master. With the addition of other chains, it enabled him to secure her in many different positions ... all of which gave him full access to her body and permitted her no possibility of resistance ... not that she would ever wish to.
Impeccably made-up and with her hair elegantly styled by the two skilled female beauticians employed by her husband to groom and prepare her ... their discretion assured by triple-payments ... Miranda kneels in the lovely pose of a slave’s submission before her Master, her eyes downcast as she waits in silent humility for his command.
She was trained to obey, trained to serve, trained to submit, trained to provide him with every sexual pleasure he desires and now, as a perfect slave, Miranda found her life’s role. Her smile is that of a woman well content with her Fate ...