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First person story of a Master's description of a brief moment in time with his Alpha Slave, Jan, who is PERFECT. There are two house guests, Master Brad, and his slave, Emma, Who Master Brad brought over so that he may witness Jan in action. Poor Emma.
Master Brad is here to see Jan in action. He is a *Friend of a friend* in the bondage circle I am a part of, both physically and metaphorically speaking.
My close friend has seen Jan in action several times when she is truly at her finest, that is, when she is training my slaves as my alpha-slave. To say he was EXTREMELY IMPRESSED would be *an understatement*
And so it went that he told this Master Brad gentleman about my Alpha-Slave.
Master Brad brought his slave Emma to get a taste of Jan's crop, and witness her incredible display.
I call her Jan, that is her given name. I will always call her Jan. She is with me forever, I am her protector, forever. I will always call her Jan...
Acquantences of mine simply call her Perfection. Goddess.
Slaves call her the Angel Of No Mercy.
We hear the knock at the door, it is Sharp....Firm....Confident.
....."ENTER." I say, and together Master Brad and I wait. And watch. The show is about to begin. Master Brad's eyes speak 10,000 words, as the door opens and Jan walks through it... PERFECTION. With no wasted movement the door is closed and she is striding with confidence towards us with a smile that can stun a mortal man. Her joy at seeing me warms even my cold heart.
Jan walks up to us, and her limbs flow downward as she Kneels and Presents her naked body for our pleasure to view. She is my Alpha Slave. Her smile fades to a relaxed neutrality as her PERFECT form is moving into submission.
Jan's body form is perfect. Her head is bowed slightly.
Jan's greatest honor as my Alpha Slave is on display. She wears my collar with pride.
Jan's collar is a physical totem for her and I. It represents and displays everything she has accomplished as my slave and through that, my pride and love for her. It represents every crack of the whip, every sensual moan, every tear we refused to wipe away on our alternate path in the mortal coil.
It is her source of empowerment, her sole sense of worth and BEING. and I could give her no greater gift than freedom, a freedom that she does not want.
Over her collar flows a tight brunette ponytail. Her dedication to perfection, there are ropebuilders who couldn't be more precise in threadcounts for a braid of rope. It ends precisely at the end of her spine when she kneels and presents, as she does now.
Her makeup is sparse. Gleaming red lips, a hint of eyeshadow on her eyes, like a jade gem which sparkles and catches the light. Her nose, straight, but not pointy, framed by those eyes, her nose is keen she CAN smell your fear. That is what she does best. And she LOVES to smell fear on the worthless slave who crosses her. Her mouth now is set, grim. She has a job ahead of her, serving her Master and training his lesser slaves. Her ears are tested to be extreme in thier reach and frequency range. Her skin is a vision that makes merely beautiful women weep with despair.
The only permanent mark I ever left on her skin is under her right eye.
Jan says that is her good eye. Some slaves who have felt her crop across thier ass more than a few times would beg to differ.
Under that right eye, she wears a tattoo. Small black letters.
Three is all she needed. I gave her that tattoo for a very specific reason.
When you wonder what just hit you, you'll have a fleeting memory of catching her eye, realizing you're way too slow, and way too late. The shit has officially hit your fan, and reading her tattoo before the whip struck your ass and pain exploded is the last clear thing you saw or remember.
JAN
Her mind is fast, matched only in speed by her wrists and hands. When she wields her whip of choice, slaves she has NEVER EVEN MET unexpectedly tremble in fear and THE GODS feel a jolt of inferiority to mortal mankind.
The graceful arch in her back is so erotic, so precise, so practiced, you could measure the angle 10000 times and it would NEVER waver one DEGREE.
Her upturned breasts are so perfectly curved and presented to the eyes, you would swear that from her breast came ambrosia, the food of the gods.
Jan's hips are thrust forward, her mons is completely bald. Within there is a ring, you can just make out a tiny gleaming piece of jade that matches her eyes adorning it. Her Mons is a sight that a man would make a pilgrimmage for, her jade ring a beacon, if only to gaze upon it once in his life and feel that he was complete.
Jan's thighs are toned and athletic, pointed to the floor.
Her calves are flat to the floor, her feet following a perfect line, toes pointed, her big toes are not touching nor are they apart. The equilateral triangle of her knees and toes when she kneels would drive a logical geometry teacher completely insane.
Some slaves would argue that while the speed of her strike comes from her hands, the true power of her strike comes from her legs. You could argue about the greater speed and power of her limbs all day.
She is perfect. She is alert at all times to the smallest elements of her environment, Her reaction time is near zero. She misses nothing, she sees EVERYTHING with clear lines of thought and dedication to her purpose. Her form is PERFECT. Her presentation for our pleasure is PERFECT.
"Jan. They're all yours.......... have fun..."
From the moment I speak, Jan is in FULL CONTROL.
Jan raises her green eyes to mine. Her expression is set. Time for Jan to do what she loves second only to our bond.
This is Jan's time to do the only thing that she will ever admit that she does second best. Her BEST is her devotion to me. As her Master, I am humbled.
She stands with ease and transitions to a strict position of attention and pauses. Nuclear clocks could try to count the time of this pause for a milenia and never catch it, because by the time she is moving, you'll swear it was a mirage that she was standing still.
You realize she is moving.
"Thank you Masters, You can count on it."
The absolute and complete confidence in her voice makes a hardened gunslinger wonder at his resolve.
As Jan strides straight to the cabinet, she asserts her control of the situation through her resolution and tone.
"Ok sluts, FIRST THINGS FIRST. Let's not fuck around... yet."
Her smile blossoms sweetly on her lips and fades to determination. You would swear that you see her eyes dim a fraction.
I had warned Master Brad in advance...... Here it comes... When Jan smiles like that, she has already found her quarry, for them, it's too fucking late.
Jan is about to go to work as only she can. The only thing possibly more incredible than witnessing this, is the EXACT moment when the universe exploded into being and the clock started ticking.
She continues talking as She sticks her hand in the cabinet.....
"Emma, you've got PRECISELY THREE CUMSWAPPING SECONDS to get your FACEHOLE in the dirt and START LICKING YOUR MASTER'S BOOT before MY RIDING CROP finds YOUR ass. ONE......."
Emma jumps as if she was goosed. She has realized what Jan just said.
Jan pulls out her weapon of choice. The riding crop is in her hand, the cabinet is shut, and Jan is moving like lightning for the strike.
"Twooooooooo.."
Jan has caught Emma's eye. It's too late. Emma's now moving but she's way too slow, and Jan is way too fast. Jan is already upon her, and her wrist is flicking with immeasurable precision, speed and power.
"THREE!!!"
A sharp crack splits the air. Emma howls and grabs her ass.
"PERFECT." Master Brad says with huge smile.
The show has just started and the audience is already on it's feet.
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