The Story of Michelle, Chapter 02  

KarezzaMagick 64M
102 posts
4/25/2006 6:38 pm

Last Read:
11/23/2015 8:30 pm

The Story of Michelle, Chapter 02

"In the Mercy Seat"

In Retrospect...
I caught a quick bit to eat on the street, and in no time at all, I stood before Michelle's door. Dare I knock? My brain was suddenly flooded with all sorts of reasons why I shouldn't knock. So I didn't knock. It didn't make any difference. The pre-appointed time arrived as the bells on University hill chimed the hour and slowly, the door swung open, revealing... Michelle.


She stood in the center of the larger room and as I entered she quietly said, “stop right there and look at me for a moment.” I looked. She was wearing a thin, filmy white cloak or robe. She was barefoot. She was beautiful ‒ far more gorgeous than I’d ever seen her on her excursions out about town. “Don’t be embarrassed to look me up and down and all over,” the words tripped merrily from her lips. “Are you certain that you want to go through with this?

Note:
I posted the rest of this chapter as the first comment inside, click that link and come on in to read the rest!



KarezzaMagick 64M
165 posts
4/25/2006 6:47 pm

The Story of Michell Chapter 02

"In the Mercy Seat"

She stood in the center of the larger room and as I entered she quietly said, “stop right there and look at me for a moment.” I looked. She was wearing a thin, filmy white cloak or robe. She was barefoot. She was beautiful ‒ far more gorgeous than I’d ever seen her on her excursions out about town. “Don’t be embarrassed to look me up and down and all over,” the words tripped merrily from her lips. “Are you certain that you want to go through with this?

“What do you mean,” I asked, “It’s a little bit…” Michelle cut in, “It’s a little bit different, and very strange, but do you feel as if you belong here, Salix? Do you have any questions?”

“I belong here!” the words burst from my lips. “I belong here, but it is strange and very wonderful. I have so many questions; I don’t even know where to begin. What…” Michelle cut in again, “For now, my dear, you are allowed only one question. Please choose carefully.”

It didn’t’ take me long, “Ok, what is this all about?” Michelle laughed. “I’m sorry, Salix, but I can’t reveal that yet. Perhaps you have an alternate question? A flush of exasperation flooded over me and she smiled warmly. I felt dumb, dumber than I’d felt in a long time. “Why… why do you call me ‘Salix,” Michelle? You seem to know everything else about me; you must be aware that my name is…” “No, she said sternly, between you and me, your name will be Salix.” My confusion must have shown on my face because she said, “Salix is the genus name for the Willow trees. Very useful in many ways, but particularly valuable to the Wise Women of old, who fashioned useful artifacts from the slender, pliable wands that emerge from these trees when existing vegetation is pruned away and new growth allowed to spring up.” Now I was completely confused.

“Don’t worry about that, Salix, but tell me, and be careful how you answer. If you associate with me, your life is going to be completely different… totally changed. You won’t fit again into normal society (not that you do now) and there will be no going back. I cannot reveal exactly what I have in mind for you, because some of it will depend upon you and I don’t yet know you as well as I intend to. I can guarantee that most of what will transpire between us shall be pleasant, but some of it may cause you consternation, even panic or grief. And as I’ve said, there will be no going back to the old times. You can quite anytime, but if you do that, you’ll regret it forever and with an intensity and sharpness that will totally ruin your life. I don’t want it that way, but that’s how it will be for you. I now offer you a choice: you may turn and depart without one word, or you may kneel before me and repeat the words I will give you.”

I didn’t even think about it; I knelt down on the hardwood floor and looked up into her bright, lovely eyes. “Whatever words you give me, I shall repeat them.”

She smiled with an intensity that melted my heart. “I knew you would say that, Salix, but tradition dictated the offer be made. Very well then, repeat after me…”

“I, Salix…”

“Agree of my own free Will, fueled by my unquenchable Passion…”

“To support and serve Michelle in every way possible…”

“To honor and obey her…”

“To protect and defend her…”

“To cherish her and love her…”

“To heed her counsel and to seek her judgment and advice…”

“To do everything I can to be worthy of her trust…”

“To improve my abilities to be useful to her in her Quest…”

“To hide nothing and reveal everything…”

“To learn her mind and to act wisely, with loyalty and honor on her behalf…”

“To this I agree, of my own free Will; swearing not some oath upon an unknown and unknowable being, but stating it firmly as my own sacred Word; for I am an honorable man.”

That’s what I agreed to, kneeling on the floor before her; and I repeated it all, line by line, with nary a stammer or tongue-slip. My spirit burned with a sacred intensity as the words passed my lips and I felt renewed and reborn. When it was over, we kept silence and she smiled down upon me for a long time, then offered me her hand and brought me to my feet. Then Michelle kissed my lips, chastely, but fervently, and pressed her body briefly against mine.

“Very well done, Salix,” she beamed. I’m happier than you can imagine. I wish we could go out someplace and celebrate. However, your training must begin immediately. I want you to open the top drawer over there and take out the package you’ll find on top. Michelle pointed to an oak lowboy, set against the long wall of the room. Over this chest hung a large, elaborately framed painting ‒ the portrait of a very old, yet still quite beautiful woman. This painting held what appeared to be a position of honor, placed as it was in the center of the wall. I found myself unable to open the drawer, because I couldn’t keep from staring in wonder at the large, mysterious-looking portrait. The woman had to be in her seventies; her eyes were centered in a network of fine crow’s foot lines and her brow was wrinkled. Yet her demeanor was overbearing in a way that appeared both haughty and generous. What remained of her once youthful beauty was still sufficient to entrance most men, I surmised, and the overall feeling produced by looking at her countenance was to want to spend as much time as possible with her, absorbing the great wisdom that seemed to emanate from her aura. For a very long minute, I stood there, looking up, with one hand on the drawer-pull. Finally, Michelle coughed and I looked away. “Who is she?” I queried.

Michelle gave me an odd look, “ I see you are quite taken with the portrait of our esteemed Patron, Mystress Tina Mosupre. “But what is she?” I replied, “Do you mean she’s our Patron Saint?” “Not exactly,” grinned Michelle, “but close enough for now. You’ll learn more about Her later. Now open that drawer, retrieve the package and tell me what it contains.”

I pulled the drawer open and lifted out a folded shopping bag. Inside the bag I found a T-shirt and a pair of men’s exercise shorts. “Gym clothes!” I exclaimed.

“I want you to change in the bathroom down the hall,” said Michelle, pointing to a doorway at the far end of the long wall. “Just fold up your clothing and keep it in the cabinet there, then put on the exercise suit and meet me back here in five minutes.” I nodded, walking slowly toward the door, some ten feet away. I halted as I reached it. Along the short wall there, to the right of the doorway, stood an odd-looking piece of bench-like furniture, with metal rings, wide leather straps, and some other accoutrements I could not recognize. There was something ominous about this piece and I stopped and looked over my shoulder at Michelle. She had moved to the opposite end of the room and was perched regally upon what appeared to be a sort of high, narrow throne, with wide-angled legs and a padded kneeling bench at its front. “You’d better hurry, or you’ll be late.” She shouted good-naturedly. I’ll see you back here in four minutes!” She continued looking at me with mirth. For the first time I took in the contents and make up of the room. It was a large residential room, probably originally a living room, about 14 x 20 feet. On one long wall stood the lowboy dresser and the portrait, on the opposite wall were some odd looking benches and fixtures. The shorter walls were as described. Each contained a door, one to the entry foyer and one to the hallway. Centered on the entry-end wall was Michelle’s odd throne seat; and centered on the rear wall, right of the hallway door stood the sinister looking bench-thing. I shuddered, but it was too late to change my mind about my situation, which I now believed was going to become very strange indeed.

I hurried down the hall and into the bathroom, where I removed my clothing and shoes, placing them into a low cabinet, built into the wall. After donning the gym-suit (I was a little worried that it lacked a jock-strap), I took a leak, washed my hands, then headed back toward Michelle, back to the large room she’d called the Great Room.

Michelle had changed too; I found her standing in the center of the room, wearing a black leotard. At her feet were two thick rubber exercise mats, each about three feet by six. The long edges of the mats were pushed together, making a rubber pad about six feet square.

“You are going to learn several exercises,” Michelle informed me, ”several different sets of exercises, actually, but for now we will begin with some Chinese martial arts warm-ups which also tone and protect the body and frame. Just do as I do and stop doing anything that starts to hurt. These won’t take long.”

She was right; it didn’t take long to learn the series of twisty Asian exercises, even with her explanations, it couldn’t have taken more than 15 minutes to work through the entire series of nine movements. “Good,” said Michelle in a happy voice, when we’d finished. “Now do them again, alone, to see what you’ve learned. I was heartened to see that without coaching, I was able to remember and recreate all but one of the movements. They were easy to perform; very natural feeling, and one flowed logically into the next. “These nine movements are great Treasures,” Michelle told me. At your youthful age they may not seem to do much for you, but you must do them at least once every day, preferably soon after rising in the morning. If you practice them every day, though you grow old, your body will never become tired, sore, or stooped… and your mind, of course, will remain in equally good shape. Anytime you feel the need, you may practice them two or more times each day.

I was feeling pretty frisky, though I couldn’t tell whether it was caused by the exercises or from being, finally, in the relaxed presence of this beautiful pixie of a girl. I reached out and put my hand upon her arm. Michelle froze, and then shot me a serious look.

“Before we go any further, I want to show you something very important.” She gave me another serious look, as she moved to the center of the padding, where she stood with hands on hips. “I want you to attempt to lay your hands on me and wrestle me to the ground,” she said. I was horrified. “I’m not really into…” Michelle cut me off, “Just do as I say; I want you to learn something. You needn’t be brutal, but give it your best shot. Put me on the ground as if you mean to me. Come on now!”

Half-heartedly, I approached Michelle and tried to grab her by the shoulders. I quickly found myself on the floor. Indeed, I landed with such a thud that despite the rubber padding beneath my bones, I was thankful that I’d performed the Chinese warm-ups. I climbed back onto my feet.

“Try that again,” Michelle commanded, “but put a little more spirit into it this time. Knowing that she could defend herself, I indeed made my next attempt my best shot. Again, before I could tell what happened, I was picking myself up off the floor.

“Continue, Sir Knight,” laughed Michelle. I know that you would never try to use force upon me, but I want you to be perfectly convinced that you can’t inadvertently injure me if our play ever becomes rough. If you really, really try to best me ‒ if you convince me you are giving it all you have ‒ who knows; you even may “get lucky” a little later in the evening.”

That was all it took to convince me. I attacked Michelle over and over again, in dead earnest. Each time, I hit the floor so fast that I could never notice what she was doing to me. Finally, I stopped, exhausted and sweating. Michelle wasn’t even breathing hard; not a hair was out of place; and she showed no evidence of sweat. “Ok, little one; that’s it,” she said. I must have given her a funny look because she said, “I don’t mean to embarrass you; ‘little one’ is a term of endearment. I am already very fond of you and; I will never do anything to cause you harm or demean you.” Then she added a qualifier. “If you behave yourself, that is! Now I want you to go back to the bathroom, where you will place the gym clothes into the hamper, then take a nice shower. Take your time and be sure to use the toilet if you need to. Then return to this room, dressed only in one of the large white towels you’ll find on the towel rack. Wear the towel around your waist. You’ve worked hard; I think you deserve a little reward.” Michelle grinned wickedly, causing me to become mildly alarmed and suddenly hard, beneath the sweat-laden workout shorts. Embarrassed, I turned and scurried off to the bathroom.

Soon I was relaxing in a warm shower, scrubbing myself with scented soap. My erection would not subside, which caused me some embarrassment; I was excited by the idea that Michelle might see it, but I was also filled with a nameless dread that she would be offended by it or that it would not impress her in some way. Finally, I urinated into the shower and moved the water handle to ‘cold,’ dousing my body with a chilly spray that quickly shrank all visible signs of my ardour. Wasting no time, I dried myself and wrapped a fresh white towel about my waist. Then I padded off for the Great Room.

I emerged from the hallway to find that, as I’d feared, Michelle was standing beside the odd contraption near the doorway. She had again changed her garb and now sported very high heels, an extremely short skirt, and a skimpy halter-top. All black! “Come, Salix, and sit upon the Mercy Seat! I call it the Mercy Seat because after I have you fastened in, you will be completely at my mercy.” For a brief moment, Michelle’s smile resembled a smirk, then she made a straight face and said, “In with you, then,” and as I climbed up onto the bench-thing, she guided and pushed me into place with such economy of motion that the towel around my hips remained in perfectly in place, shielding my modesty, such as it was.

Michelle fastened me into the seat in a comfortable position; part reclining, partly supported by my hands, which were secured within light leather cuffs. “Take some deep breaths, Salix, and be sure you can breath all the way to the top of your lungs.” I was pleasantly surprised by how secure and comfortable I felt secured into Michelle’s bench, while still feeling somewhat alarmed at my lack of ability to free myself should things take an unpleasant tack. My legs, though not secured were very far apart and although my private parts were well covered by the towel, I could see that if the towel were removed, I’d be in an open and embarrassing position, indeed.

Michelle ran her fingers through the hair on my chest causing a sudden ‘tent’ to appear in the white towel over my hips. “Well, little one, this is what we’ve both been waiting for. I see you are properly excited. What do you think happens next?”

To be continued. Next: “The Education of Salix"


interested13563 53M
2557 posts
4/26/2006 4:36 pm

"Don't be embarassed to look at me up and down and all over"
- a phrase of a really sensual woman!!!


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