The Master

by Tara Sue Me

  a situation like that? To hand over control to every part of your life? From your haircut, to your clothes, to whether or not you could have lunch with your girlfriends when you wanted?”

  “I don’t know, Sir.”

  “There are Master/slave couples who don’t use safe words.”

  He spoke it simple and matter-of-factly, but it had the intended impact. She sucked in a breath and swallowed her panic. Her voice gave no hint of fear when she replied, “Everything’s still negotiable. I wouldn’t enter into any relationship without a safe word. It’s a hard limit.”

  “And I would applaud you for that. However, I won’t train you to be my slave. I don’t mean to be cruel, but you’re not mentally prepared to take on such a role.”

  She balled her fists so her nails dug into her palms. “I don’t want to be your slave, Sir. That’s not why I wrote that.”

  The air behind her moved as he stood. “Then what was your purpose?”

  “I want you to give me some training, just a little taste, in full-time slave service.”

  “No.”

  She took a deep breath, his response exactly what she thought it would be. She knew arguing wouldn’t change his mind. In all likelihood, it would only make him angry. “May I propose a compromise, Sir?”

  “A compromise?”

  “You know, that thing where we both budge a little to reach a mutually satisfying arrangement?”

  His voice was terse and unamused. “No, can’t say I’m familiar with the concept.”

  “I agree I’m not ready to serve as a slave right now or even train as one. But can we relook at the idea in a month or so?” There was only silence behind her. “Please, Sir?”

  For several seconds, he stood and then he slowly walked away from her. Toward the window, she believed. She heard his sigh from across the room.

  “Very well, a month it is. And to give you a little taste, you’re not allowed to wear knickers for the next month.” He smirked at her gasp of shock. “And rest assured, I’ll be checking.”

  • • •

  Friday afternoon, Cole sat in Daniel’s kitchen while his friend prepared steaks to grill.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Daniel asked, washing his hands. “I have plenty.”

  “I’m sure. I have a phone interview with a source in about an hour.” And he was starting to feel like a third wheel, staying on Daniel’s property. Eating with him and Julie would only make it worse.

  “If you change your mind . . .” Daniel let the offer hang in the air.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll let you and Julie enjoy your Friday night alone this week.” He didn’t miss the look of anticipation that crossed Daniel’s face. Cole snorted. “Obviously, you have plans for the evening.”

  “Hell, yes!”

  “I guess that means—”

  His talk with Daniel was interrupted by the sound of feminine laughter coming from the front door. He recognized Sasha’s voice immediately. She sounded carefree and happy and he smiled in response. She needed to laugh more.

  “We’re in the kitchen,” Daniel called out, and Sasha’s laughter stopped.

  Seconds later, Julie entered the kitchen followed by a now subdued Sasha. Julie made her way to Daniel, who pulled her close and gave her a welcome home kiss. All the while, Sasha stood in the kitchen doorframe, hands behind her back, and her eyes anywhere except on the kissing couple.

  “Sasha,” Cole said.

  She moved her gaze to him. “Sir.”

  Her voice was breathy and her cheeks slightly flushed. He wondered if she was wearing panties.

  “Did you and Julie have a nice afternoon?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He locked gazes with her, wanting to ensure she understood his next comment. “How fortunate then you had nothing to take priority over your outing.”

  She didn’t look convinced, her lips pressed together and she stood straighter. “I suppose.”

  She shifted her weight, which told him she was doing one of two things. Either she was wearing panties and being around him made her feel uncomfortable due to her disobedience or she wasn’t wearing panties and she felt the weight of his Dominance just being in his presence.

  “Daniel, you and Julie will have to excuse us for a moment. I need a private moment with Sasha.”

  Julie wrinkled her eyebrows, but Daniel only nodded. “The house is yours.”

  “Thanks.” He turned his attention back to Sasha. “Come with me, little one.”

  There was a large guest room down the hall from the kitchen. He led her there and into the roomy bathroom attached. Once there, he opened the door and bid her enter first. He closed the door behind them.

  “Kneel,” he commanded and she went to her knees. “Have you been a good submissive, Sasha?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Thank you, I believe you, but since I told you I’d check, I’m going to check. I want you to stand up and take the shorts off.” He let that sink in for a minute. If she had followed his directions, this would be the first time he saw her naked. “If I like what I see, you’ll be rewarded.”

  Ever so slowly, she stood to her feet and unbuttoned her shorts. He held his breath as she inched them down, revealing only bare skin. She was shaved, but the shorts had been on the snug side and left red marks on her skin.

  “Good girl.” He moved to stand behind her. In that position, he could see them both in the mirror. “Tell me what it was like, being panty-free.”

  “It made me aroused, Sir. And every time I thought about how turned on I was, you always came to my mind.”

  “Exactly what I wanted. Are you aroused now? Standing in Daniel’s loo, half naked, with your pussy exposed to me?”

  She sucked in a breath. “Yes, Sir.”

  “For being such a good girl, I’d normally bring you to orgasm. But I don’t think you’re ready for me to touch you like that, so you’ll have to be my hands.”

  “Sir?”

  “You’re going to pleasure yourself for me.”

  She moaned and he met her eyes in the mirror, gave her a smile.

  “Spread your legs more,” he ordered. When she’d widened her stance, he added, “Start at your waist, brush your skin lightly, tease it, think about where your fingers are going.”

  She closed her eyes and her fingers drifted to her waist. Her lower lip was sucked into her mouth in concentration.

  “Let your fingers brush lower, but don’t touch your clit.” The color in her cheeks deepened at his words. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  It seemed she found it easier to talk with her eyes closed. “I’m thinking of your fingers, Sir. About how they’d feel.”

  “How would they feel? Tell me whilst you play with your cunt.”

  She licked her lips. “Good, they’d feel good, Sir. You’d start by seeing how wet I was.”

  “How wet are you?”

  “So fucking wet, Sir.”

  Her coarse voice turned him on, but he forced himself to ignore his cock. “Your little pussy’s so wet and it’s aching for me to push my finger along your slit and take care of that ache, isn’t it? Desperate for me to fill it. Two fingers, you think, or three?”

  “Sir?” she croaked.

  “How many fingers do I fuck you with, Sasha? Two or three?”

  Her body shook with need. “Oh, God, three, Sir.”

  He leaned as close as he could without touching her. “Then do it.” Her fingers worked themselves between her legs. “Harder. I’d fuck you so damn hard.”

  He clenched his teeth as she pumped her fingers deep inside. It took almost all of his self-control not to push her hands aside and stroke her to release. He could almost feel her wet heat around his fingers. Her breath grew choppy and her body started to sway.

  “I’m going to hold your shoulders to give you support,” he whispered. “You keep fucking yourself. If I don’t think you’re doing a good job, I’m going to make you stop and
you won’t come for two weeks.”

  Once his hands were on her shoulders, she leaned into him. The small movement pleased him. Possibly without her even realizing it, her body trusted him to hold her steady while she drove herself to climax.

  “How do my fingers feel now?” he asked.

  She shook her head and lifted her hips toward her fingers. “Deep . . . so close. . . . I need . . . please . . .”

  He thought she grew more and more beautiful as her orgasm approached. “Rub your clit for me, little one. Show me how you like it.”

  Under his gaze, her fingers worked themselves in and out of her body while her thumb teased her clit. She started to whimper.

  “That’s it. Good girl. Now let me see you come.”

  A few more passes of her thumb, and her body stilled as her release swept over her. He kept his hands on her shoulders, keeping her steady and upright, all the while whispering how beautiful her pleasure was, until she stopped shaking.

  She slumped against him, breathing heavily. “Thank you, Sir.”

  Once she had recovered and made herself presentable, Cole took her back into the kitchen and settled her into a chair. Though her checklist indicated playing in public was a turn-on, he had wanted to do her first panty check in private.

  Her cheeks still had a hint of darker than normal color to them, and her eyes were filled with contentment. A soft smile tickled the corner of her mouth and every so often, she’d catch his gaze only to quickly glance away.

  Julie studied her with frank assessment, but unlike times past, she appeared to be satisfied with what she saw. Daniel, of course, acted as if nothing happened, but Cole knew he didn’t miss anything.

  “Julie and I are going to start planning next year’s melanoma benefit tomorrow. We’re going to check out a few venues. Either of you want to come?” Daniel asked.

  “Hell, no,” Cole said. “Event planning is about on a par with having a tooth pulled. I’d rather stay in the guesthouse and alphabetize canned goods.”

  Daniel snorted. “You say that like your cans aren’t already alphabetized. Sasha?”

  If Cole felt like a third wheel around Daniel and Julie, he could only imagine how Sasha felt. She squirmed in her seat.

  “Actually,” Cole said. “I was going to ask Sasha for help tomorrow.”

  Sasha laughed softly. “Oh, boy. I either spend the day looking at hotel ballrooms or arranging cans. I don’t think I can handle all the excitement. I might have to decline both and wash my hair.”

  “If you help me, I promise we won’t do anything with cans,” Cole assured her. She raised an eyebrow at him. “I have an appointment to see a house.”

  Sasha had given him several names of real estate agents the second time they met for her retraining. Not being in a hurry to move and admittedly not looking forward to the hassle involved with looking for a new place, he’d postponed contacting anybody. He’d finally called one a few days ago, and she wanted to show him a newly listed property.

  Sasha tapped her chin in mock thought. “House hunting definitely beats out hotel ballrooms, but I don’t know. I really should wash my hair. Give me a second to think.”

  If he’d known talking her through an orgasm would have brought out this new playful side of her, he’d have done it earlier. He stretched out in his chair and put his arms over his head.

  “Either way works for me. But if you’re going to be home all day tomorrow, I have a new writing assignment for you.”

  “I believe that’s called blackmail, Sir.”

  “In that case, you can do the writing assignment no matter what you decide.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “You did that on purpose.”

  “Of course I did.” He hid a smug grin, enjoying the playful banter between them. Unfortunately, he had that interview to conduct in about fifteen minutes. He pushed back from the table. “I have a call set up. I’ll see everyone later. Sasha, walk out with me, please.”

  She hopped down and they made their way outside in silence. When they got to the guesthouse drive, he turned to her.

  “If you’d like to go tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  He was pleased to see the lighthearted look remained with her even though they were alone. He’d feared she’d feel awkward around him with everyone else gone.

  “I’d like to go.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I can wash my hair tonight.”

  He leaned down and whispered, “Wash it tomorrow morning. Tonight you’re to write five hundred words on why going without panties made you so wet.”

  • • •

  He slept restlessly that night, his thoughts consumed with the way Sasha’s body had writhed under his gaze. How she’d followed his commands and brought herself to release at his bidding. She was a wonderfully sexual creature, and he allowed himself a few minutes to wish he hadn’t been so insistent they not have sex.

  Of course, he’d promised they’d discuss his training her in slave service. Hell, he was a bastard to even consider such a thing. He told himself he was doing it because if he didn’t she might find someone else, and he’d be damned if that would happen.

  But he knew if they agreed to any type of slave training, they would have to renegotiate their arrangement. In order for her to get the full experience, she’d have to move in with him, he’d have her naked for part of the day, and, if she agreed, he’d drop the restriction on sex.

  That he told himself was the real reason he agreed to discuss the potential in a month: having her kneeling, naked and desperate for his cock, at his feet while he worked. Unbidden, his fantasy played out like puzzle pieces:

  “You’re going to have to wait. I have to finish this article.”

  He ignores her on purpose, pretending to write, but the entire time he is watching her. Her skin is freshly washed and he can smell just a hint of the lemongrass lotion he bought her. She tries to be still because she knows it pleases him, but he sees the minuscule movements of her body.

  Sometime later he bids her to stand and display herself. He fondles her while reading over a draft and slaps her ass when she tries to direct where his hands go.

  “Naughty slave, thinking she knows where her Master should touch her.”

  Next, he has her sit on his desk with her legs spread and finger herself without climaxing. He tells her to get ready, that she better be wet enough. She’s dangerously close to losing it. He stands and takes his cock out, telling her if she comes, she doesn’t get his cock for three days.

  Finally, he allows them both what they want and she comes twice before he pulls back. He takes his still hard dick and tells her to bend over the desk. She knows his plan and she’s nervous even as he prepares her with the lube.

  But he holds her entirety in his hands and he wants only to bring her pleasure. And though he eventually takes his own release, it is her soft cry of gratification that’s his true reward.

  He woke up the next morning with an uncomfortable erection. Usually, he would take the matter into his own hand, but he decided to go for a quick run instead. As he’d hoped, the morning air and peaceful surroundings helped clear his mind, though he feared it didn’t do much to calm his libido.

  His assumption proved correct when he knocked on Sasha’s door at five before eight and she answered. Her hair was still slightly damp and she didn’t have any makeup on. She looked natural, and the effect was beautiful.

  “Good morning, Sir. Would you like to come in?” Her smile indicated she probably slept better than he had. Of course, between the two of them, she’d been the one with the mind-blowing orgasm the day before.

  “Thank you.” He stepped inside, suddenly curious about the space she called home.

  Her apartment was eclectically decorated with sleek contemporary black and white mixed with antique touches of deep red. It wasn’t a style to be found on any decorating guide, but somehow it fit her personality perfectly.