~Stranger~ 3.

She knew her instructions. He’d been very explicit in His emails. He would come to her, they would have time together, then He would go. She must remain where He left her until she counted to 99. Then she was free to go.

Slowly she counted in her head.

97

98

99

Drawing a deep breath, she opened her eyes, and looked around. A sanitation worker swept cigarette butts and the detritus of the day from around the edge of the Pool, tourists snapped pics of the War Memorial, but she didn’t catch His scent again.

She swallowed down the disappointment.

The feeling of His arms around her had been thrilling, despite the brevity. So strong. So tall. He’d rested His head easily upon hers. His scent was pure male.

Her reverie was broken by the ringtone of her phone, His tone. Scrabbling in her sweater pocket, she pulled it out, saw the New MSG flash across her screen.

look in yr basket

**** ***** ****

He watched her from the back corner of the Memorial garden. Hidden from her sight by a bowing Yew, He watched her, could almost hear her counting, then looking around for Him.

Damn she made Him smile. Dangerous.

He sent the text as she had turned to go back down the steps. He watched her fumble for her phone, and enjoyed that she was as stirred by Him as he was with her. Again she scanned the area, but he remained invisible to her.

He smiled as He watched her dig through her little basket. Then she found His gift.  Wrapped in crimson paper, tied with black silk cord, He wondered if she would attempt to open it there, or if she would show restraint until she returned home.

It was, in essence, a testing of her patience. Delayed gratification was often the role of the sub…unless it was His will to be otherwise.  She had yet to serve a Master, preferring, she had told him, to ‘play the field’ as she explored the wide vista’s of the D/s community. It was all relatively new to her, she’d explained further, since she’d come late to the lifestyle.

He hoped she had reasonable expectations. That she would fully understand and embrace the role of a submissive. He had no issues with training a girl to His wants, His rules, His desires, but her commitment must come first, else there would be no relationship.

He continued to watch as she turned the packet over in her hands, lifting it to her ear and shaking it.

It was no matter, He’d wrapped it well and she would have no idea what lay inside until she opened it.

**** ***** ****

She held the gift in the palm of her hand, almost weighing it. Oh, it carried weight, but far more than the mere ounces that sat upon her hand.

This was a surprise. She scanned the grounds again, seeing nothing, but still feeling His presence. She put the packet into her pocket. Though she wasn’t far from home, she did not want to chance being mugged and losing the damned thing.

Whatever it was.

For sure she was NOT going to open it on the Mall. My gosh, what if a butt plug fell out? Though the package was curiously flat for that. Still. Anal beads coiled inside the box would be equally embarrassing.  And she wanted the anticipation to build. To place it on her bed, and slowly strip to skin, to kneel for a time in front of the box, before she finally, slowly, opened it.

She tucked her basket into the crook of her elbow, and sent Him a text.

Where are You? I know You are here.

She hit ‘send’.

**** ***** ****

He felt the buzz in His pocket seconds after He’d watched her type out a short message. He read her query with a smile. She’d passed His first three tests beautifully.

He decided to indulge her.

He stepped clear of the sheltering yew, and stood near one of the lights that illuminated the Memorial.

**** ***** ****

She caught movement across the pool at the edge of the Memorial Garden. A tall man stepped out of the garden, and for a moment, was illuminated, gilded, by the golden light. Her breath caught at the juxtaposition…the bright golden glow, and His darkness. She couldn’t see Him, not really, from this distance, but He exuded …power.

Her nipples rose, and pussy wet thinking of those arms, the arms of a Stranger, holding her tightly. Thinking of His flesh covering her, His hands squeezing her tender bits, His tools and toys come to bear upon her.

For all this had been promised, should she pass His ‘trials’…

Her phone chimed, and she looked down at the message light. Thumbing the button, she saw His note:

good girl

When she looked up, He was gone.