My doorbell rings. This is not a normal occurrence. I try to live a quiet life with not too many visitors. It’s a nice day and like usual I am naked. Not wanting to shock whoever is at the door, I grab my robe and put it on. I look through the peephole and at first I don’t see anything. Damn probably kids trying to sell something I think, so I look down more. Definitely not kids. On the other side of my door I see what appears to be a brunette head of hair attached to a woman kneeling outside my door. It can’t be Marcy, she would not have brown hair and is one of the reasons she is no longer in my life. Hard to believe that a trivial requests from a master that is constantly told how much his slave loves him that his slave would not let her hair go back to its natural color. I don’t get involved in the local S&M scene, if there even is one here, so who is it on the other side of the door? Daredevil that I am I open the door.

A security door now separates me from this woman. I take in the sight before me. I am not sure how tall she is but I am thinking not too tall around 5 ‘5”. She is wearing a sheer white blouse, with a black pushup bra with a glint of silver, and a black skirt that almost touches her knees. Her hands are perched on her knees. As my eyes reach her knees I see that placed in front of her is a 3’ piece of oak and an envelope with a “Master, please read” printed on it. I say to the woman “Slide the envelope toward the door.” Silently she pushes the envelope until it touches the door sill. I reach down and through the gap at the bottom of the security door and pick up the envelope. Opening the envelope I find a note.

“Master,

Before you is Jill. I met her in a hotel bar in Atlanta. I was a bit drunk and spoke about our relationship. The next night I was back at the bar again, you know how I can’t not drink. I was still sober when she came back into the bar. She sat next to me and said, “I want to know more.” I wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about. She said “Master.” Suffice to say, I now knew what she was referring to. The previous night I had told her how I had met a man that made me do things I would never have dreamed of doing, controlled my actions, brought me to levels of pleasure and pain I never knew existed. I told her about the first night you took me for a walk around the block collared on a leash wearing only a nighty and high heels. I told her about the time you used a plunger as a dildo up my ass. I told her about the blow job in the parking lot. Many things I should never have said came out of my drunken stupor. She wanted to hear more. I told her about the pain, the heartache, the suffering. No man has ever treated me the way you did or made me feel the way I do about you”

I looked down at Jill, wondering what it was that I was going to do with her. I knew that beneath the skirt I would find a pussy with no underwear, that she was not wearing pantyhose and I more than likely find a garter belt holding up stockings, but possibly thigh highs, would it be shaved pussy or would the hair still be there waiting for me to decide how it should be cut. I wonder how much Marcy had said to Jill.

I continue reading. Jill is still and silent, as I read on.

“I told how you treated me like a dog, making me lap water out of a bowl, making me heel at your side. I told her about the time you shoved a dildo in my pussy and a plug up my ass and roped it all up and sent me on a “treasure hunt” I told her about the training, the 6am daily walk with bra with cut out nipple holes, the kneeling for an hour every day, the clothes pins you made me put on my lips and nipples. I told her how you thought it would be nice if I had pierced nipples and pussy lips (I know you didn’t have it done because of my work and constantly going through metal detectors)”

She was right on that one but now I know I could have done it in titanium or acrylic.

My vestibule is fairly private, only my neighbor across the way can really see into my doorway and he won’t care or won’t say anything.

So now the question is do I? Do I want to the time? Am I up to the task? Will I live to complete the work? I ponder this in my head for what seems like forever.

I keep reading. I wonder how much Marcy has said. It goes on with an awful lot of details, my tracking of her progress and things that are best left for another time.

The letter closes with “I learned so much from you and wish that you would have kept me. She asked if I would introduce her to you. I told her I would write this letter, which as you can imagine makes me so wet that I need to shove my hand into my pussy, but I will wait until I have finished taking care of you, as always. I have told her your real name and the city you live in. I told her about what to wear. I told her that you would need wood for a paddle and that oak is the best. I told her not to read the letter just present it to you. Please, I beg you to send her away and let me be your only true slave.

Your loving slave,

Marcy

Absolute Power! Absolute Submission!

“Strip,” I direct at Jill.

Quick, she unbuttons the blouse, not a silver trimmed bra but freshly pierced nipples, barbells, but we can change that. The clasp for the bra is on the front. This girl is thinking. It pops off quickly to reveal creamy breasts with a bit of a tan line. Her navel is pierced as well. The skirt has a zipper on the side, so Jill does not have to get up she simply pulls the zipper up. This reminds you of years and years ago, Chris and the only skorts I ever liked. They covered the crotch but you could slide your hand in to access the pussy, I digress. The black skirt falls away and Jill is reaching to unhook the stockings from the just revealed purple garter belt. I say “Stop.” Jill’s hand stops moving, Jill stops moving. I think maybe Jill has had previous training. Jill is not wearing panties. The black bush is long but cut to a triangle. Not quite as long as Lisa’s but long. Oh how I remember how Lisa loved to be clean and make that black bush glow. I can see from my view from the door that it stops at the top of pussy and from there on down it is shaved. Forty years of smoking and I can still smell the aroma of a wet pussy. Not much time has really transpired since the doorbell rang but I see a couple of water spots on the hard concrete between her legs.

I ask “Why are you here?”

“I want to feel what Marcy feels,” she replies

“How did you find me?”

“The Internet.” Interesting, I am vain enough to have checked and I don’t come up on most search.

“Where do you live?”

“Where ever you desire.”

“No, really, where do you live?”

“I rented a house, with an option to buy over in Glendale.”

“Do you work?”

Yes, my company has an office here and I asked to be transferred here.”

“Why?”

“To serve you,” she says.

I am abashed. What could Marcy have said in two conversations that would make a person move to be with me? I am not all that handsome and not really very nice to people that need what I give.

Trying to win my heart she adds “I love to suck cock.” Well it looks like Marcy knew the key that would open my door.

“Pick up your things,” I say, as I unlock the door, “and come in.”

May I walk or should I crawl?’

“Walk in or walk away, the deal, or ordeal starts inside. Leave the wood outside,” I tell her “The wood is not ready to come in until it has had some cutting sanding a little blood and some varnish. You need some cutting too but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let Bill watch me do that.”

“Who’s Bill?”

“Shut the fuck up!”