Answering a knock on the front door at your apartment, you see a strange man, someone you have never seen before. He quietly hands you an envelope....even from a quick gaze at the envelope, you recognize my handwriting...the words, my command, simply stated: "Open this now". Inside that envelope is a handwritten note from me. "Do whatever he says," are my written words. "I have hired him, to get you ready for me. Trust me, my love, he will not hurt you. He knows I would hurt him...greatly...if he ever hurt you. So you can trust him. Do whatever he says, and I will be there, soon." Only understanding our relationship----I, your Master and lover, and you, my sweet submissive lady---can give those words their true meaning. And with that relationship, you have learned and know to obey my words, without hesitation or reservation. You find yourself, almost instinctively, as if hearing my voice speaking those words, backing away from the doorway, letting him enter. He hands you a small black box...and says quietly, forcefully but almost with no emotion... "The garments inside this box, put them on." Stepping through the doorway, he closes the door behind him, and stands, quiet and still, just inside the door to your apartment, as you quickly disappear into the bedroom, the black box in your hands. He waits, with the patience of a man who know his task, and what he will need to do to complete that task. Moments later, you return and face him. The look on your face, once near panic when you saw him at the door, has changed, to a quiet resignation that you will do whatever you are told at that moment. The outfit you now wear is all in white...the white, nearly sheer stockings, the white...also nearly sheer...gloves, covering from your fingers to above your elbows. The bustier...also in a white, the material hiding just enough to tantalize. He points back to the bedrom. You find yourself, almost instinctively, following his silent instructions, as if they are instructions from me. The years of our relationship, the d/s liftestyle, control nearly your every action and reaction. He slowly follows you into the room, carrying with him a black bag. I know you think that you have seen than bag before. Your mind races, bordering between panic and excitement; did he have he have the bag with him, in his hands, when he walked into the apartment? Just as quickly, you realized that it reminds you of ~~our~~ toy bag. Perhaps, you think, just perhaps it contains some of the same toys. Perhaps it is ~~~our~~~ toy bag. From that black bag, he removes a ballgag...a white rubber ballgag with white leather straps. Slowly, he reaches towards you, the ballgag in his hand, with his next spoken instruction: "put this on, tightly." I can see you, hesistating at first, then remembering my instructions to you, taking the ballgag from him. Slowly you lick your lips to moisten them, hoping to ease the rubber ball into your mouth, then placing it deeply inside your mouth. It is not an easy fit; it fills your mouth completely. You finish your task by reaching around your head to fasten the straps at the nape of your neck . You...and he...notice that the pace of your breathing has started to increase, and deepen. Placing the black bag on the ground he then walks towards you, now standing barely inches away from you. Your mind begins to race, wondering, as you feel his breath on your body. He reaches towards you, then places his hands around your head. Your body gets tense, for that brief moment, until you realize that his actions are to just check the straps. Not content with the tightness of the gag, he tightens it another two notches, removing any slack that you left (perhaps intentionally?) in the gag. Satisfied that the gag is tightly in place, he utters his next instruction. "Sit on the bed, and place your legs across each other, yoga style. Then lock your hands, palm to palm, behind you." Though your nevousness increases, you trust in me, and in the message on my note that he will not hurt you. With that, you follow his orders and wait. Your eyes follow him as he walks around the bed, and ends up standing behind you. He kneels on the bed and quickly takes hold of your wrists. From somwhere---I know you are not sure where but guess at the black bag---appears in his hands a length of white cord. With the speed of an expert, he makes a loop of the cord and wraps that loop--and the rest of the white rope--around your wrists, holding them in place. I know that you will quickly test your bonds....you always do...but you find that that they will not give. He does his work well; I have paid him to do that work well. As he slides off of the bed, and walks to the front, your eyes continue to watch him. Another length of soft white cord, this time a very long piece, comes from the black bag. He stands in front of you, leans down, and continues his task; after tying your ankles together in their cross/yoga position, he wraps the remaining length of rope up and around around each big toe. Then, with quick movements, he leans towards you and slides the rope behind you, around your body, behind you, circling your arms and pulling your elbows together. He completes his task, sliding the soft white rope up and around your shoulders and, finally, ties it in place behind your neck. Perhaps a complex bondage, but surely an efficient one. You again test the ropes as I know you will; nothing moves. He does his work well. And from your tender lips comes only a soft, murmuring sound. The ball gag also does its job well. A low comment, almost a whisper, comes from him: "I was told that you were not to be able to get loose. I have accomplished my first goal." First goal?????? I know those two words echo in your mind. He quickly...firmly...places his hands on your shoulders, and slowly lowers your back to the bed. Your legs, tied as they are in the lotus position, move, lift with your body. You suddenly realize that the most tender portion of your anatomy is almost exposed. Two small snaps on your outfit are the only protection. You trust in my words; at this moment, you have to. Looking at you, the man utters these words: "I know what you are thinking. He told me how you would react. Remember his words." That is all that he says, the words both forceful, and comforting, if only a little. He unsnaps the two snaps, exposing you to him. Perhaps it is the exposure; perhaps it is the fact that you are already wet. But for whatever reason, you begin to blush, drawing a smile on his face. "Just a moment longer, and I will be done with my second and final task," he says. Second task????? Those words, echo in your mind not far from the first words. From that mysterious black bag comes a vibrator, in the shape of a dildo, with a flat rubber base. As he looks into your eyes, he realizes that you need to have ~~that~~ question answered. "Yes, it will be on. But it has a small timer, turning it on, then shutting it off. He has already timed it so that you will be ready for him when he arrives. But it will not be on long enough for you to be satisfied without him." The man knows what he has said, what I have been planned for you. And that grin of his almost becomes an evil grin. As your body accepts the invader between your legs--accepts it easy enough that he, and you, know that you are already ready for me--the flat base prevents it from going in any further, as if it could. In a quick movement, he resnaps the two snaps, covering that portion of you that now does not want covered but instead wants attention...my attention. The man reaches towards you, quickly takes hold of your shoulders and returns you to a sitting position. Suddenly, and without warning, the vibrator goes on. Your moaning sound, from behind the gag, tells him that it is working. But little more than seconds later, the sound of the vibrator ceases. Even bound as you are, you try to lift your body, your hips, to make it turn back on, or to somehow make it move inside you. You now realize that, as he said, you will not be satisfied, at least not without my help, and that you will stay in a state of arousal until I arrive. He turns away from you and walks, out of the bedroom, to the front door. He remembers, as I instructed him, to check the lock on the front door to ensure that the door is locked when he closes it. He later told me that a small sigh came from behind your gag as he spoke, telling you that that no one except me will come through that door. I am the only person, other than you, with a key to that door. As he leaves through the front door, and begins to pull the door closed behind him, he turns back, looks into the bedroom at you, and utters these words: "My job is now done. I have been well paid to do this job for him. When he hired me to do this, he told of me your beauty, and of your total willingness to follow his instructions, whatever they may be. I now understand what he has said." Looking back at you one, last time, he said: "Your Master will, as he promised, be here......" As the vibrator again turns on, and the front door is closed behind him, you hope that your mind is playing tricks with you as you hear what sounds to be his last word: "tomorrow."