MRWADE42.STY BY MASTER WADE



Ashley Presents Herself



Part One



The small imitation bug landed softly on the calm surface, and I

watched as the rings from its slight splash circled outward

noiselessly. When they had almost ceased, I tugged gently on the

line, making the bug dance jerkily, as if struggling to free

itself from the surface film. There was a beaver swimming across

the lake to my left, his brown head and upper body hidden from

time to time by the early morning mist as it rose from the

warming water.



I saw the fish long before he reached the top of the water,

zooming up vertically beneath the lure as if shot from a cannon.

He broke the surface violently, his mouth wide open, enhaling the

bug and flipping and twisting his body in the air before plunging

back into the depths. When he had disappeared from view I

gathered in the slack in the fly line, and holding it tightly

against the rod with my forefinger, snapped my wrist upward,

setting the hook in the jaw of the unsuspecting fish. It had not

appeared to be an especially large fish, but as he turned and

swam toward the middle of the lake the rod was pulled around by

the force of his escape and the line blistered my finger as it

was torn from the reel.



His fight was challenging and exciting, but in the end no match

for the skills of his captor. As I removed the hook and held him

by his lower lip I was amazed at the power he had shown in his

small body and the fight he had put up. Lowering him back into

the clear water, I smiled as he shook his tail and swam off as if

the entire battle of self preservation had only been a momentary

interruption in a very normal day.



I hooked the lure into the cork handle and tightened up the line

before turning to start the outboard. I could leave now. He had

been the only fish in hours of casting, but he was enough. The

sun was rising higher now, the wind beginning to pick up, and I

had driving to do.



In the summer months, especially before I was to have an

encounter with a submissive, I often spent such mornings at the

lake. The serene beauty which surrounded me and the anticipation

which accompanied each cast I made seemed to tune my mind and

condition it, preparing it and me for what was to take place

later in much different surroundings.



My trip on this day would be to what the owners claimed to be the

oldest continuously occupied frame plantation dwelling in the

state. It had been converted into a Bed and Breakfast Inn several

years prior to my first visit there, and the owners had carefully

and beautifully restored the main house as well as the former

slave cabins scattered around the property into tastefully

decorated lodgings for guests.



I had reserved the cabin called Sanco Pansy, named after a slave

who had chosen to continue to live on the plantation even after

his emancipation. The beamed celings and large fireplace made a

most romantic setting which was enhanced by the excellent stereo

and hot tub which were the only modern conveniences to conflict

with the ageless warmth of the room.



The cabin was nestled in a grove of old oaks and maples off to

the left of the main house, just out of sight, and the other

cabins and outbuildings were still further along the winding

gravel driveway which wound around the old plantation.



To retire to such a setting after a morning on the lake was in

itself a most enjoyable experience, one which would only be

enhanced by the delicious meal served family style in the large

dining room in the main house. To add to that the marvelous

opportunity of spending time with Ashley, one of the most

beautiful and exciting hungrily submissive women I've ever known,

made it an experience I would never forget.



I drove straight from the lake to the old plantation, timing my

arrival so that I could leisurely prepare myself for Ashley. As I

soaked in the tub I thought of the lovely woman who would in just

a few hours be presenting herself to me, her MASTER.



I had first met Ashley at a dance given annually in a near-by

city as a fund-raiser for a charity to which I was a frequent

contributor. She was the lead singer in the band which provided

the evening's entertainment, and her talents were the highlight

of their contribution. She was a beautiful woman in her middle

twenties, a woman who was proud of her body and her sexuality and

who used both of them to compliment her excellent voice and

carefully choreographed and fluidly performed movements on stage.



As often happens, I was drawn to her from the start, led by that

intuition which all real MASTER's have for women with her

hungers. In spite of the excellent view I had of her long

curvaceous legs and the tempting and delightful beauty of her

full breasts, I found myself drawn to her eyes as she sang. They

held the secrets of her soul, and as I danced with my partner's

back to the stage, Ashley's eyes met mine in that way which only

those who have experienced can understand or appreciate. She

continued to sing, and I continued to dance, and the band played

on...but from that moment on two strangers in the room were no

longer strangers, but knew deep inside that they knew each other

well and that they would know each other even better before all

was said and done.



We never spoke that night at the dance, Ashley and I, and two

days passed before I was able to learn her name and where she

worked. Our conversation the phone that day is one I will long

remember.



"Ashley...I hope you don't mind me calling you at work. I was at

the dance night before last, and you made quite an impression on

me", I said, upon reaching her at last.



"I know who you are, and I'm glad you called...I knew you would",

she replied.



"I danced quite a bit just in front of the stage...I was with the

blonde in the black dress.."



"Yes, I know", she interrupted, "I really did know you would

call. I could feel it when you looked at me."



"And you know also, Ashley, that as much as I enjoyed your

musicianship, that it is not the reason for my call, dont' you?"



"Yes!" Her breathing was becoming obvious now.



"You have known men like me before, have you not, Ashley?"



"Yes." She paused. "Yes, once."



"Yes, and that man knew and understood you in ways that no other

man ever has, didn't he, Ashley?"



"Yes..yes, he did."



"Why were you so sure that I would call you, Ashley?"



"You're...you're like he was. You're a stranger, but yet, we

aren't strangers...you know me already, don't you? Just like he

did."



"Yes, Ashley, I do."



"When can we meet? Where shall I meet you?", she asked.



"Tonight, the restuarant in the square. Eight o'clock. You will

wear a short dress, high heels, ear-rings, and red lipstick."



"Tonight..yes..I won't disappoint you."



"I'm sure of that, Ashley...very sure."



I toweled myself off and slid the black briefs up into place.

Ashley had certainly been no disappointment that first night, and

I knew as I continued dressing that she would never be a

disappointment to any man who knew the hungers and desires that

lived so deeply within her and who was capable of feeding them.



Continued in Part Two...