Later that morning Celeste was once more dressed in her male garb as Terence addressed her. “We still have funds for a week or two, perhaps we need not look to our trade for a while.”



Celeste retorted hotly “We need money for our own purposes also. Remember that I at least don’t intend to remain in this profession all my life!” His relaxed, to her eyes lazy, attitude provoked her to her old independence. She would not be told how to conduct their affairs if it was so clearly ill-considered. Her mood was not helped by the frustration she was still feeling after the morning’s denial of release.



They argued back and forth, but Terence had to admit their ultimate aim was to build up funds for their different purposes, and they should not use up all the proceeds of each interception. So Celeste had her way in that, and also in their choice of destination. “We must get far away from Norwich” she had argued cogently. They would head through Thetford to Cambridge next, and then eventually on to Bristol where she had some acquaintances down by the docks.



Finally Celeste contrived to slip away, claiming she was going to see to the horses, whilst Terence was settling the bill. She slipped quietly into the stable, checked that none was around, and sneaked into a corner of a stall. There she quickly brought herself off, her fingers working deftly under her skirts. But although she came, it really didn’t satisfy her. As she was rearranging her skirts she caught the stable-boy peering at her from the next stall and wondered how much he had seen. It was of no concern to her, she was quite brazen enough to like the idea of a secret audience. She paused as she was passing the stall where he pretended to work, looking at his breeches to see if she could see any sign of arousal. She could see none, but nevertheless smiled wickedly as she said “I hope you’re having an entertaining day, boy.” She stifled a laugh as he blushed.



So they settled their bill and departed. Celeste glimpsed the young stable-lad again as they rode out and gave him the most outrageous wink, being rewarded once again with his scarlet face. Perhaps when we pass here again, she thought … he clearly is ripe for some education in certain arts.



On the road each of them dwelt quietly in their own thoughts for a while. Terence was pondering his new-found mastery, glancing frequently towards his slave. Unfortunately for him, in her own cogitations his slave was plotting to become distinctly un-slavish once again. She was determined to reassert some independence. It was not, she told herself, that she would renege on her surrender. After all, that surrender was wonderful in itself, she remembered, and the memories stirred her yet again. But Terence, older though he was, still had so much to learn. Surely it was her duty to teach him in between her times of surrender? Thus she arrived at a rationale which satisfied her.



The day was dull and dreary as they rode towards Cambridge. They came across one coach too suddenly to make “arrangements”, and to their chagrin had to let it pass. In the forests around Thetford they made camp for the night. They were both tired and sore from the day’s riding, and after eating a cold supper they huddled together for warmth, falling quickly asleep.



The morn dawned bright and warmer. Celeste, awaking first and seeing Terence still sound asleep, decided here was a perfect opportunity. She sneaked away to fetch a length of rope. When she returned, she made a noose and slipped it over one of his wrists surreptitiously, then snuggled against him, managing to get him to roll over a little so that she could tie both wrists together, crossed in the small of his back. As she tugged the knot tighter he awoke, not immediately aware of his predicament. Celeste stood and moved to look down on him. “Did Master sleep well?” He blinked up at her, still heavy with sleep. “Uh, yes.”



“MISTRESS has a little surprise in store”. She kicked him lightly on the thigh, and trying to move he realised he was tied. His face immediately reddened with anger, and to her discomfort she saw that there was also a sadness and disappointment. She couldn’t bear that. It was far from her intention to make him sad. But she would soon have him happy again! Her confidence in her own power to pleasure him was supreme. “What in God’s name are you doing Celeste?”



She tried to explain a little. “Terence. I AM your slave. I will serve you. But …” She faltered in her attempt to explain as he listened in intense concentration. “I cannot, not yet anyway, not for a long time, perhaps not ever … I cannot be only your slave. I also have to command and be obeyed. I know you felt that need these last two days, your need to be Master. Can you not understand my need?”



He shook his head. No, he could not understand her.



She almost relented then, but she knew if she submitted to him now, devoted her whole life to him as slave and only slave, she would always feel a part of her deprived. And although she would be a happy slave there would be a void, a need unfulfilled. Their relationship must not have such imperfections, it must be complete. She loved him with all her heart, now finally she could acknowledge to herself that she would always love him. And it was necessary that they be complete. It was no longer arrogance that drove her, but a certainty that their strange love must find its wholeness in all ways. How could she tell him this? She tried to explain it, stumbling over her words, sometimes tears in her eyes when he could not comprehend what she was saying. At least he could see that she loved him in earnest.



Terence, trying to grasp what she meant, began to gain some measure of understanding of her feelings. But he had not had her long experience of a life of such strange drives, and switches, and complex interactions. He took comfort from the final, evident depth of her love, but he was still superficially angry with what she was doing. He ground out “So what is it you intend to do with me Celeste?”



“MISTRESS!” she flung back. “I intend to be your Mistress … for a little while. And if … if at the end you do not willingly submit to sometimes serve me, I promise I will be your slave uninterrupted forever, or for as long as you want me!” Now she felt cold fear. She had to succeed in this one opportunity to show him that he could serve her as happily as she could serve him.



She knelt down and pulled his face to hers, kissing him fiercely, and to her relief his mouth opened in response. She pushed in her tongue before he could have her mouth, stridently taking possession. He fought her tongue but she would not yield until she pulled away, leaving them both panting from the fury of the kiss. She smiled into his eyes. “Terence love. You can be my slave.” Damn, it was too soon, why had she said that now!



Celeste rolled him over onto his back and dragged his breeches off, began kissing his legs, his thighs, toying around but not touching cock or balls until he was straining his erection. “That’s not what Mistress wants yet, not what slave needs yet.” she cooed at his ear, rolling him now onto his belly, which he was helpless to prevent. Pushing down inside her breeches she moistened her fingers in her dripping cunt and pushed at his asshole. He tightened and grunted out a protest “Get off me woman. Not that!” But her forefinger slid slowly, inexorably into him until her knuckles pushed up against his ass. She crooked the finger and rotated it gently left and right, cooing behind his back “Terence, be my good slave. Mistress loves you.” Her tone, not her words, made it easier for him to accept her ministrations, despite his embarrassment. Her left hand dipped to gather more lubrication from herself and spread it into him, so that she could slide two fingers in, then three. She worked patiently, gently, opening him up and pleasuring, feeling then for the spot she knew would tip him over, make him hers. There! She had it, felt him push back against the probing finger, heard his groans of pure pleasure now.



Terence finally gave himself up to the pleasure of it. He had no room left for disappointment, for anger, for embarrassment. Pleasure was engulfing him. He rode back wantonly against her fingers.



Celeste moved her left hand between his thighs, caressing his balls as she continued to thrust her fingers into him. She felt the final tightening of cock and balls, then grasped the base of his shaft and pulled back sharply. His cock pulsed in her hand as he came, groaning loud pleasure. “Good boy, slave. Mistress is so happy.”



She lapped and sucked his cum from her fingers, then knelt to clean his cock thoroughly with tongue and lips. Then she untied his wrists and rubbed the circulation back as he lay there. Pulling off her breeches she lay against him, holding tight. After a while he turned half over to face her, his expression dreamy, almost awed.



Now this was the acid test! Could he admit he had surrendered for at least this occasion? She asked him, quietly, “Terence, will you say ‘Thank you Mistress’?”



He answered “Thank you …” then added a mumbled “Mistress”. After all, he thought, it’s just a word, and she wants to hear it. Yet at the back of his mind he was aware it meant more than that to him as well as her.



Her smile, so incredibly radiant, rewarded him. She realised and accepted that she could not remain Mistress long. He would feel the need to reassert his Mastery in very short shrift. But it was done. Their relationship was set. She to serve him … but sometimes, just sometimes, he would serve her in his turn. Still tasting him, she stroked his shoulder and chest idly. Her voice vibrated with emotion as she replied with a quiet “Thank you slave!”

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