Overture
The black car drove up the long driveway, past the manicured lawn and well-groomed trees. She had only a few moments to replay in her mind the conversation she’d had before she left her home.
She’d known for several weeks that she was making this trip but that morning before she left, her Master called her to his study. She entered quietly, finding him seated behind his desk, pen in hand.
“Good morning, Master,” she greeted him.
He rose and walked around the desk, kissing her cheek and shepherding her into a chair.
“All ready to go?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. I will miss you until you return on Monday, My Own, but I know you will bring me honor.”
“I will surely do my best, Master,” she said, feeling somewhat smaller suddenly.
“I know you will,” he said, stroking her cheek softly. “All you need to do is be the girl I know you are–the girl I helped to create.”
The car stopped in front of the exquisite house and the driver came around to open her door. As she stood looking up the softly rising stairs, he fetched her bag from the trunk and quickly carried it up to the door. She placed one foot on the first step, hesitated a moment, and then resolutely made the climb.
The driver tipped his cap to her as she joined him and murmured that he would return for her on Monday at the appointed time. She thanked him and watched as he descended to the car. Then she turned and faced the front door, with its classic door knocker–a gold lion with a ring in its mouth. She reached out, took hold of the ring, and knocked it against the frame twice.
She was quite surprised when the door opened.
“Good morning and welcome, Allana.”
“Sir Marcus,” she stammered, “a very good morning to you as well.”
He reached down and picked up her bag, and stepped to the side to allow her to enter the house. He placed her bag down next to him and kissed both her cheeks.
“Be welcome in my house, now and always,” he said, warmly.
She smiled and lowered her eyes shyly.
“Thank you, Sir Marcus. I bring you the greetings of my Master and his wishes for your good health and happiness.”
“Delightful,” he responded. “I trust he is well?”
“Oh, yes, Sir.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. Ah, here’s Lucy,” he said, as a young woman in maid’s attire came down the long stairway.
“Lucy, this is Allana, who is our guest this weekend. Please take her to her room, help her to get settled in, and then show her to my sitting room.”
The maid nodded and smiled at Allana. “This way, Miss.”
“I’ll see you shortly,” Sir Marcus said with a smile.
Twenty-five minutes later, Lucy was showing her the door of Sir Marcus’s private parlor. She thanked the maid kindly for her help, smoothed her fitted black skirt, and knocked on the door.
“Enter,” Marcus’s muffled voice called from within.
“Ah, there you are!” he said, as she entered and moved toward him. “I hope your room is to your liking?”
“Oh, yes, Sir, it’s quite beautiful,” she replied.
“Please, come and sit,” he beckoned as he moved to a small couch near the windows.
As she moved to the couch, she could not help take in the amazing vista outside the windows–a wide patio furnished with comfortable chairs, tables and couches; a perfectly landscaped garden; and woods that looked like each tree had been purposely placed to create paths and shadowed places. Marcus watched the girl, smiling.
She came back to herself and carefully seated herself next to him on the settee.
He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes as he spoke.
“I cannot say that I am not very pleased that your Master and I were able to come to this arrangement, Allana. It is extremely generous of him to allow me the pleasure of your company and service for the weekend.”
“It’s my pleasure, Sir Marcus, to be able to visit and serve you,” she said quietly.
“Indeed,” he smiled. ‘If you have any questions about our time together, I would be happy to address them.”
“None, Sir. My Master has spoken of you with great respect, and that tells me all I need to know. While I am under your roof, I am yours without restriction.”
“Your Master gives me a great gift; I will be sure to show my full appreciation,” Marcus told her.
She felt her cheeks blush.
“Did your Master mention to you that I’m a great music lover, Allana?” he asked.
“He did, Sir Marcus. Do you favor a particular genre over others?”
“Well, although I like a great many kinds of music, I’d have to say that classical is my favorite.”
She smiled and said, “I’m very partial to classical music as well, Sir.”
“Are you? That’s wonderful! Then you’ll know that many classical works begin with an overture,” he said.
She nodded in acknowledgement.
“And so, I think, shall we,” he said, standing and reaching out a hand toward her. She took it, rising from the couch and following him as he moved across the room toward a door.
He opened the door and led her into an office that was decorated in masculine colors and patterns. He stopped about four feet from the desk and told her to stand in that spot. Then he walked the rest of the way to the desk and rested against the front of it, facing her. She watched him silently, her heart racing.
“Take off your blouse, Allana,” he commanded quietly.
She undid the buttons with fumbling fingers, trying to calm herself and demonstrate her gracefulness. She breathed deeply as she shrugged the garment off her shoulders and draped it carefully over a nearby chair.
“Now your skirt, please.”
Obediently, she reached around behind her and lowered the zipper, then stepped out of the skirt. It joined the blouse on the chair, and she stood in her lace bra and panties, garter belt and stockings. Her excitement was building, though she willed herself to stillness.
“You are very lovely, Allana,” Sir Marcus said as he approached her. “I have long looked forward to your service.”
He was standing right in front of her now, and he reached out a hand and touched her lightly–her face, her stomach, the inside of her thigh. His touch was like a small flame on her skin. He moved behind her, touching her shoulders, the small of her back, her round bottom. He took her by the right wrist, drawing her arm back toward him, then reached for the other to join it.
Arranging her hands as he wished them, he whispered into her ear, “Stay just like that, Allana.”
In a few moments, her hands were bound with what felt like ribbon.
“You’re quite irresistible, Allana,” he said, drawing a blindfold from his pocket. He tied it around her head and checked to make sure it wasn’t too tight.
She was temporarily disoriented and could not tell where he was; then she felt him release the clasps on her bra and push it down her arms so that her breasts were exposed. She knew he was standing directly in front of her then.
Running a thumb over each nipple, he inhaled deeply, then leaned forward and spoke.
“You fill my head with music, Allana. Now I’m going to make you sing.”
The Moonlit Pillow: The Erotic Writings of Skye Leroux 
Well done! I could see the scenario unfolding in my head.