To Seek a Master

by Monica Belle

  ‘No. Leave that on. In fact, yes, take everything else off except that, and you can stay that way.’

  A shiver ran the length of Laura’s spine as she pictured herself cooking for him with nothing on but her apron, her bare bottom showing as she worked, at the stove, and on his cock. She knelt up and began to strip, too urgent to think of making a show for him, but he didn’t seem to care, watching with that same boyish grin and stroking his balls and cock in an absentminded fashion.

  She quickly had her top and bra off, kicked off her shoes and stood to get out of her skirt. His smile grew broader as her black silk camiknickers came on show, and she hesitated, wondering if he’d like her to keep them on. Her enquiring glance was met with a shake of his head.

  ‘No, no, off they come, but you can keep your stockings.’

  Laura nodded, fumbling her knickers down and stepping free to leave herself to all intents and purposes naked; nothing concealed from his gaze, or his touch. There was still some embarrassment at being so exposed, and she was glad to get her apron back on, leaving her concealed at the front, if hardly decent, but bare behind. Chris chuckled.

  ‘That is a beautiful sight. Now down you go.’

  She obeyed without hesitation, falling quickly to her knees, then to all fours. As she got down she felt her breasts loll forward beneath her apron and she knew he could see them, her bottom too. She nuzzled her face against his cock and balls, revelling in the feel of warm male flesh, before taking him into her mouth. He sighed, his hand closing in her hair to dictate the rhythm of her sucking as she got to work.

  His cock immediately began to swell in her mouth, a sensation she had always adored and made all the better by the fantasy developing in her head. To be kneeling at his feet in nothing but her stockings and a cooking apron was good, but it would have been better still if she’d been spanked first, not as a sexy game, but as a punishment for some minor fault.

  She moved forwards a little, making herself comfortable between his thighs so that she could play with his balls while she sucked. He was getting hard, and starting to push up into her mouth in his rising excitement, while the grip in her hair had tightened, keeping her firmly in place. She let her imagination run, playing the scene over in her head, how she’d be told off, maybe for refusing to work stripped, put across his knee, her knickers taken down and her bottom smacked hard. Once he was finished with her she’d be made to strip anyway and set to work in the nude but for her apron and stockings, only to discover that punishing her had turned him on, and being held by her hair as she was made to suck him off.

  He was getting there far too quickly, already groaning and pushing himself deep, while Laura had hoped to carry on to the point at which she could no longer resist slipping a hand back between her legs. She tried to slow down, lifting from his now solid shaft to tease his balls and the underside of his cock with her tongue, but he quickly lost patience.

  ‘Come on, Laura, in it goes.’

  Being obedient to him felt too good to allow her to resist and she took him back in her mouth, still trying to take it slowly. He wasn’t having it, holding her firmly by the hair as he fucked her mouth. Laura let her hand go back, feeling more than a little used and not sure if that was a reason for resentment or the perfect thing to come over. After all, if he’d spanked her and forced her to suck him off he’d hardly worry about her pleasure.

  A powerful shudder ran through her at the thought, but before she could focus on her fantasy his cock jerked in her mouth. She did her best to swallow, still rubbing at her sex as she imagined having him come in her mouth as the final indignity of her ordeal, but he’d quickly pulled her head up, gasping as he spoke.

  ‘Stop, stop, that’s too much, Laura … too sensitive. Oh, but you are good.’

  She nodded and rocked back on her heels, eager to show him just how excited he had made her, but his eyes were closed as he spoke again.

  ‘So good. Now, how about another glass of wine, darling?’

  Laura stopped, her feelings a mess. It felt good to be controlled, but she needed at least some attention. Yet she knew that the longer she held off the better it would be and so reluctantly complied, returning to the kitchen to tidy herself up and retrieve the bottle from the fridge.

  An hour later she was glad for her choice. Being in nothing but apron and stockings had kept her arousal high all the while, especially once he’d come into the kitchen to talk to her while she cooked the vegetables, sitting at his ease while his eyes caressed her bare bottom. She ate naked but for her stockings, constantly aware of her exposed breasts as her need rose and the level in the second wine bottle fell. By the time they had finished she was drunk and her inhibitions had gone completely.

  They snuggled up on the sofa, Chris fully dressed, Laura still next to nude. He began to play with her breasts, idly, stroking her skin to feel their shape and teasing her nipples until she’d begun to arch her back. She let her thighs come wide, hoping for a yet more intimate caress, only to realise that if she was going to put her scheme into operation this would be her last chance, and that if she didn’t the coming week would be one of agonising frustration. Twisting around, she reached for her book, which she’d left carefully placed on the lower level of her coffee table.

  ‘Do you like dirty stories?’

  Chris gave a low purr, which Laura took for assent. Opening Taken to Turkey at the bookmark, she began to read.

  A gasp of pure horror escaped Evangeline’s perfect white throat as she took in the scene in the harem. It was a great square room, lavishly decorated with all the opulence of the orient, the ceiling a magnificent mosaic of turquoise, cinnabar and gold, the walls hung with thick velvet drapes of a dozen rich hues before which stood huge negro slaves, their muscular bodies naked but for loose white pantaloons, their ebony skin glistening with oil, each as still as any statue and leaning on a great scimitar of finest Arabian steel. Enormous pillows lay scattered about the floor, their colours every bit as rich as the hangings, and on these pillows lay girls, some dusky, some Grecian olive in complexion, a few as pale as her own exquisite skin, but all young and as beautiful as the dawn.

  At the far side of the room lounged Mustapha bin Yunus himself, a veritable giant, his great round head half hidden beneath a great black beard oiled and curled to the latest fashion, and crowned by a turban of viridian silk from the centre of which a ruby the size of a blackbird’s egg winked like the eye of some malevolent demon. His own eyes were only a little less fierce, while his massive hirsute chest and monstrous belly protruded from between the wings of a red velvet waistcoat in a fashion so grotesque it brought her near to swooning. But none of these details held her eye, as she gazed at the girl who lay across Mustapha’s lap – a dusky, painted houri, naked but for a scrap of dishevelled silk at the level of her ankles. Bangles and bells at her wrists, her lifted bottom a magnificent amber peach, she wriggled in her struggles of desperation as he applied smack after purposeful smack to her wildly bouncing cheeks.

  ‘Don’t you think that’s fun? I’d love a man to handle me like that. Would you like to, do you think, Chris? Would you like to spank me? Chris? Chris?’

  Chris was asleep.

  7

  LAURA SPENT MOST of her journey into work the next day trying to place the blame for what had happened on herself. Chris worked hard and was entitled to be tired at the weekend, especially after sex followed by Sunday lunch. If she’d had any sense she would have sat down beside him when she first discovered him with his cock out and played with it while she read the passage from Taken to Turkey, either that or simply abandoned the whole over elaborate scheme and crawled across his lap, sticking her bottom up in an invitation that she was sure he wouldn’t have refused. It had also been a mistake to drink two bottles of wine, and to cook such an enormous lunch, yet despite all her efforts she found it impossible not to feel a little resentful. She, after all, had done everything he’d wanted, and however much she liked a man to take control sexu
ally he had to be considerate to her as well.

  Her frustration had reached a peak when he’d woken up after two hours, demanded coffee and left almost immediately, applying a single firm pat to her bottom as they embraced at her door, as if to tease her, even to taunt her. She’d been too agitated to want to play with herself, either that evening or the following morning, leaving her still on edge as she got off the train at Cambridge. All the usual suspects had been there, and Darcy had even stepped aside to let her through the doors first, triggering a fantasy of giving herself to him in order to get back at Chris.

  For once there was nothing urgent to do at work, with the factory likely to be working at capacity for several months. Mr Henderson set Laura to the task of seeking out potential new clients, a routine job that allowed plenty of time for daydreaming, doodling and even the occasional glance at her book when he was out of the room. She also found herself checking her emails at what she knew perfectly well to be unnecessarily frequent intervals. Telling herself that she was now with Chris made her feel guilty, but it didn’t stop her.

  The email came shortly before lunch, much earlier than before. She opened it immediately, telling herself that it wouldn’t do any harm just to look. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the words on the screen. SO, LAURA, DO YOU WANT TO BE PUNISHED?

  She knew the answer – yes – but she could no more type it in than she could pull her eyes away from the screen. Whoever it was seemed to be able to read her mind. He knew her name, too, which had to narrow the field considerably, but made the question all the more alarming. She tried to tell herself that it was Chris after all, and had been all along, that he’d only been pretending to be asleep and had heard what she’d said, but her instincts told her otherwise.

  Chris was really no different to Tommy Fuller, handsome in his maturity and confidence, but underneath all that a dirty little boy who liked to get girls out of their clothes and onto his cock. The Man, the Controller, was very different, calmer by far, with more authority, what Mr Henderson might have been in a fantasy world where bosses spanked their secretaries and nobody thought it wrong or even unusual.

  She glanced across the room, but Mr Henderson was bending to return his appointments book to its drawer, apparently oblivious to her. New determination fired her. Chris or no Chris, she would find out who the Controller really was. That meant responding, playing him at his own game, although even as she began to consider her reply she was doubting her ability to outwit him.

  It seemed pointless to answer his question, especially as she was pretty sure he knew the answer, or at least had a strong suspicion what it would be. Nor would admitting to her need help to identify him, while denying it seemed pointless. She considered conducting the experiment she had intended to, making changes to the way she was dressed in accordance with his instructions and seeing how he responded in order to eliminate each possibility until only one remained, only to dismiss the idea. Not only did it seem likely that he would catch her out, but he hadn’t given her a specific instruction.

  What his question did suggest was that she had been disobedient, presumably because she was wearing tights that morning, implying that she’d done it on purpose in order to provoke him into punishing her. Yet he hadn’t threatened, but asked, which suggested that he wanted affirmation. If she gave it, perhaps he’d come into the open, but the thought of turning up at some private rendezvous ready in anticipation of getting her bottom smacked and finding Hovis Boy or Brian and Dave waiting for her was too appalling to be countenanced. Not only that, but it was not at all sensible to go to a meeting with a strange man on her own and she could hardly bring a friend who might end up watching her getting it knickers down across the Man’s lap.

  For a long while she sat staring at the screen before remembering how Hugo de Montvilliers had flushed the Human Chameleon from his hiding place by setting fire to the house in The Marquis of Montauch. She would set the Controller on fire, although not literally. He was a man after all, and obviously fancied her, so it surely had to be possible to prick his imperturbability? She nodded to herself, clicked on the reply button and began to type. I’M VERY SORRY, SIR. TOMORROW I WILL BE IN STOCKINGS AND SUSPENDERS, AND FOR MY PUNISHMENT I WILL GO WITHOUT KNICKERS.

  Having completed the message she hesitated, then clicked the Send button before her doubts could get the better of her. It was a good scheme and, after all, she didn’t actually have to leave her knickers off. What mattered was that he would think she was bare under her skirt, and surely the man who could resist the opportunity to peep if he knew a girl was knickerless had yet to be born?

  Conscious that whoever he was now had every reason to assume she was interested, she found herself nervous, sure that he would make a move at any moment, and dreading the approach of a leering Brian. Nothing happened, not a single one of the people she saw behaved in any way out of the ordinary, but with just a few minutes to go before leaving time another message arrived. DO SO NOW.

  The words gave her a jolt of emotion worthy of the most hypersensitive of her literary heroines. It was an order, and the instinct to obey was so strong that she found her hands wanting to go to her hips. She closed her eyes, telling herself that she was now in a relationship, and that even if she hadn’t been it wasn’t right to take her knickers off for strange men. Another voice came back, a wicked insidious voice, telling her that it would do no harm, that it would be fun, and that it would change the journey home from work from a boring routine to a thrilling ride.

  His message also suggested that he’d know if she obeyed, which had to mean he was watching, or at least expected to see her. She could hardly take her knickers off in front of Mr Henderson, which meant a trip to the Ladies. Very possibly he’d want to see, allowing her a chance to catch him out, which in turn provided the excuse she needed to actually do it, unless of course he was already watching her, and no doubt enjoying the state she was in. She cast yet another enquiring glance at Mr Henderson, but as always he gave nothing away.

  Laura stood up, trying as hard as she could not to show her nerves as she made for the door, only to be brought up short by her boss’s voice, cool and easy, just a little wry.

  ‘Going somewhere, Laura?’

  She spun around, stammering unintelligibly as she answered, now certain it was him after all.

  ‘I, um … that is, you … I mean, I have to …’

  ‘Are you all right, Laura?’

  ‘I … I have to go to the Ladies. Unless …’

  ‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry. I thought you were hoping to get off early. Run along then.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Laura turned for the door to hide her burning embarrassment. The awful words had been about to spill from her mouth when he had interrupted her, an offer to take her knickers off in front of him. She hadn’t been able to stop herself, too weak with shock for what she’d thought was an admission that he was the Man, only to hold back at the last instant when he’d spoken again.

  Yet it still might be him. Maybe he was toying with her, determined to extract every last ounce of emotion, to leave her a helpless wreck before he finally revealed himself. Maybe it would be when she came back from the loos, a curt order to lift her skirt, to show him her bare sex. She knew she’d do it as well, her feelings too strong to be denied, and as she hurried down the corridor she was cursing him under her breath even as her body grew hot to the thought of her coming exposure.

  Only in the calm of the Ladies did she manage to get a grip on herself, sitting in a locked cubicle as she gulped in air. She hadn’t realised how badly he’d got to her, if it even was him. Looked at sensibly, there was nothing at all unusual in what he’d said, while she was so tense that almost anything might have seemed provocative.

  There was only one way to find out, to force the issue, because if she didn’t she felt she was going to go mad. With her face set in a stubborn frown, she kicked her shoes free and tugged her skirt up, levered her tights and knickers down, then off,
stuffing both garments into her bag. Naked from the waist down, she felt more exposed than she ever had before, in front of any man, even on the one occasion she’d allowed herself to be talked into performing a striptease, and yet she knew it was nothing compared to the way she’d feel if Mr Henderson made her show herself.

  It took her a full five minutes to pluck up the courage to leave the Ladies, all the while wavering between going through with it and backing out. To her horror Brian and Dave were in the corridor, leaning on the coffee machine. Both turned to watch as she went by, making her painfully conscious of her bare legs and that only a thin layer of wool separated her naked bottom from their lecherous, penetrating eyes. Dave whistled at her, but it was Brian who spoke up.

  ‘Hot, or what? I bet those go up all the way.’

  Dave sniggered and Laura found herself blushing again, sure that they’d realise she had no knickers on and that the whole of EAS would know by the morning. Unless, that was, the Controller was some grotesque cyber creation of theirs, his firm authoritative manner no more than a construct made in mockery of the sort of man she would want to obey, and which they could never be. They were there, after all, and if it was them then they knew she was bare, yet it was hard to imagine them resisting the chance to make some dirty comment.

  She had soon turned a corner, moving out of their sight, although their sniggers at some comment she didn’t catch followed her as she walked. If she’d been nervous before, now she was completely off balance, and so filled with embarrassment at the thought of allowing them to manipulate her that as she pushed open the door to Mr Henderson’s office she was praying he’d reveal himself as the Man, whatever the consequences.

  He wasn’t even there, and she saw that the clock stood at seven minutes past five. For once he had left on time, and she swore aloud in frustration. Now convinced that she was being deliberately and carefully manipulated, she checked her email, half expecting some new and yet more aggravating message. There was nothing.