To Seek a Master

by Monica Belle

‘I’m not sure I feel like a slave, although I do understand what you mean, I think.’

  ‘Don’t worry, full understanding will come with time. You have a long journey ahead of you, Laura, but at the end you will know yourself as few others do.’

  ‘I hope so. It all seems a bit frightening.’

  ‘If you’d rather not?’

  ‘No, no, I want to, but it’s so sudden, and I don’t really understand my own feelings, and …’

  ‘That’s what I’m here for, to be your mentor and, ultimately, your master.’

  Laura responded with a nervous smile. What he was saying fitted with what she had known about herself for a long time but often tried to repress, while his calm, uninhibited confidence was immensely appealing. Yet a part of her wanted to get up and slap him across the face as hard as she could, for daring to assume that she was already his, and not simply her lover, but something more intimate by far. He was watching her face as she sipped her wine, and when he spoke it was once more as if he’d read her mind.

  ‘It won’t be easy. It never is. Society has conditioned you against your true nature, to the point at which it seems natural to rebel against your own instincts. Hence my little test, to see if you were capable of going against social pressure, and which you passed with flying colours.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She had answered simply, ignoring the temptation to go into the emotional upheaval she had suffered. It was easy to go along with him, ignoring her misgivings and accepting the promise of what he was saying. Their starters arrived, thin slices of some dark rich meat accompanied by an apple mash, and he changed topic of conversation to fine food, Laura half-listening as her mind dwelt on how it would feel to be placed across his knee later that same evening. Once again he seemed to divine her thoughts.

  ‘You are a trifle distracted, I see? I suppose that’s hardly surprising, in the circumstances. You are ready, I trust?’

  ‘I … I think so. What are you going to do with me?’

  He gave a pleased smile.

  ‘How perfectly you react, Laura. In the same situation, most girls would ask what I would like to do, or what I want to do. Not you. You ask what I am going to do. What indeed?’

  He was teasing with her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Laura could no longer hold back.

  ‘Are you going to spank me?’

  She’d spoken in a whisper, hot and urgent, but carefully modulated to ensure that the diners at nearby tables didn’t hear her shameful demand. He didn’t reply immediately, his full attention on his food. Laura waited, fidgeting, until he was ready.

  ‘You crave discipline, that is your nature. You are also aroused by discipline, both the thought and the act itself as you will soon discover, but it is essential that you understand the purpose of discipline. If you misbehave, or fail at a task, or fail to meet my approval, you will be punished, always. You will not be punished without reason, ever, even though you may be smacked for other reasons, including simply to arouse you, or for my amusement. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, I think I understand, but are you … are you going to do it?’

  ‘If it needs to be done, yes.’

  His answer made her feel weak with desire.

  ‘You seem to know me better than I know myself.’

  ‘That is hardly surprising, Laura. I have trained a number of girls across the years, and while each was individual in her own delightful way, there are certain basic verities, what I call the three Ps. One is the need for punishment.’

  ‘And the others?’

  ‘We’ll come to those presently. For now I want to concentrate on the proper understanding of discipline as discipline rather than for erotic titillation.’

  Laura could only nod, remembering how strong her reaction had been to her spanking from Hazel Manston-Jones. There had been nothing remotely erotic about the actual punishment, and she was no lesbian, yet she had not only wanted to come over it, but needed to, and repeatedly. What was being promised would be just as strong but he clearly understood how she would react. Less clear was whether he intended to take advantage of the state she would be in, something she could not do without. She was blushing as she struggled to find the words to express her need.

  ‘You will enjoy it though?’

  He laughed.

  ‘I will enjoy you, Laura, very much. That will be an important element of your punishment.’

  Laura managed a smile, unsure exactly what he meant but very sure indeed of what it was doing to her. Her whole body felt warm and sensitive, while she had begun to tremble. She wanted more.

  ‘What else should I know?’

  ‘Many things, but that will come with time. For now it is enough that you are willing to accept discipline from me.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Good. And one other thing. I advise against misbehaving in order to be punished. You will be, but perhaps not in the way you had anticipated.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You will find out when the time comes, if it comes.’

  Laura shivered, partly in fear, partly from a new surge of desire at the thought of having to give herself over to some unspecified punishment, something crueller still than the bare bottom spanking she needed so badly. He swallowed the last of his Champagne, then spoke again.

  ‘What you can be sure of is that you are precious to me. I will discipline you, yes, but I will do nothing to hurt you deeply, nor to spoil your beauty, even temporarily.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You will, many times.’

  Two hours later, drunk and aroused to the point of absolute surrender, Laura had given herself over completely to his control, knowing that whatever choice he made she would accept it with pleasure. She was his, and had said as much, so that even if he chose to simply put her on the train and leave her to travel home alone she knew she would accept his decision. That seemed to be what was going to happen as they made their way through the streets, only for him to turn aside, steering her into Sturton Street and to where shutters closed off the door of a shop painted black but for lettering in faded gold.

  ‘My shop. Come inside.’

  Laura waited as shutters were raised and the door opened, allowing him to usher her into a dim space rich with the scent of old leather and musty pages. He locked up behind her, turning on a single light to suffuse the room with a dull yellow glow. Bookcases stood against every wall and at the centre of the floor, creating a maze most of which was hidden in shadow, save for where the bulb he had brought to life created a puddle of light in front of where a single bulky armchair upholstered in green leather stood beside a plain desk. He sat down, gesturing to her.

  ‘Come to me. Into the light.’

  She obeyed, standing apprehensive before him, her fingers twining together behind her back. He put one hand to his chin, tugging at his small sharp beard, more demonic than ever as he spoke again.

  ‘Remove your gown.’

  Her hands seemed to move of their own accord, up to the zip of her gown, pulling gently downwards. She felt her bodice come loose, the heavy silk pulled down by its own weight to bare her breasts to him. He raised a finger and Laura paused, her gown at the level of her belly, allowing him to make a slow, unhurried inspection of her naked chest.

  ‘Take hold of your breasts. Touch your nipples.’

  Again Laura obeyed without hesitation, cupping her breasts in her hands to feel their weight as she stroked her fingers across the hard, urgent buds of her nipples. She wondered if she would be made to masturbate, her excitement rising steeply at the prospect, but he said nothing, simply watching until she could hardly resist touching lower. At last he gave another signal, motioning her to continue with the removal of her gown.

  She pushed it down, shaking badly as she wriggled the silk down over her hips and legs, conscious of her naked sex as she went bare, and of her exposed bottom behind. He gave a brief, complacent nod at the proof of her obedience, waiting until she had stepp
ed free of her gown to stand before him in nothing but her suspender belt, stockings and heels before once more addressing her.

  ‘I had often imagined you naked, and I must say that I am not disappointed by the reality. Now turn around, and place your hands on your head.’

  Laura shuffled quickly into position, glancing back over her shoulder as he began a leisurely inspection of her bottom. For a long while he was silent, until once again her sense of anticipation had risen close to breaking point.

  ‘Bend forwards.’

  A sob escaped Laura’s lips, but she did as she was told, thinking of what he would now be able to see, the rear view of her sex, with every intimate little fold on show, also the tight pink star of her anus. She was hiding nothing, while he was showing nothing, and it felt perfect, exactly how they should be together, at least until he chose to fully enjoy her, which had to be soon or she would burst.

  ‘Do you like what you see?’

  ‘If you mean, do you have a pretty cunt, then the answer is yes, as I suspect you know.’

  Laura let slip another sob at his crude words, her pleasure pushing higher still as he went on.

  ‘A very pretty cunt. A very pretty bottom too, full, feminine, yet without surplus flesh. In fact, you are a very well formed young woman, but again, I suspect you know that. Now, as I recall, there was at least one day on which I instructed you to wear stockings but you disobeyed me. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose …’

  Laura never finished her sentence. His hand had closed on her upper arm and her words broke at the realisation that she was going to be put across his knee. A flood of emotions hit her, fear and desire and shame and a need so strong that she was already sobbing as she was manhandled gently but firmly into place, laid across his lap with her head hung low and her bottom lifted.

  He began to spank, his hand smacking down on her bare flesh with hard, purposeful swats. It stung enough to make her kick her feet and wriggle her hips, but he had her held firmly around the waist, preventing escape. Not that she wanted to, because for all the hurt and indignity of her position she was filled with joy for what was being done to her, her bare bottom spanked across the knee of a strong dominant man, and not only for sex, but to punish her.

  Laura burst into tears, not for the pain, but for wonderful sense of release as smack after smack descended on her cheeks. He never so much as paused, keeping up the same steady rhythm on her bottom and keeping his grip on her waist. She was now squirming freely across his lap, her legs wide and not caring what she was showing behind. It didn’t matter, not for him. He could see anything, do anything, just as long as he kept her disciplined.

  Her bottom was now hot, the pain dissolved to a blissful sensation that quickly had her sticking her hips up. He gave a knowing chuckle, sensing her reaction, and his hand had moved lower, smacking the tuck of her cheeks to send jolt after jolt to her sex. Laura realised she was going to come, spanked to orgasm, and that there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it happening.

  She cried out as the pleasure rose high, now on tiptoe, her bottom pushed as high as it would go. The smacks began to get faster, and harder, bringing her up and up until it happened, pushing her over the edge to a screaming, writhing peak. He never once reacted, holding her and spanking her as the orgasm tore through her body and stopping only when she was completely spent.

  Laura slid from his lap to the floor, kneeling between his open knees. She was shaking uncontrollably, lost in a state of bliss she had never imagined could exist as she clung to the man who had spanked her. His arms came around her, holding her to his body as she let out her emotions against his chest, the hot, ecstatic tears streaming down her face, and only when her sobs had finally begun to subside did he ease her slowly down to feed his penis into her mouth.

  13

  THEY WOULD MEET again, properly, at the weekend. Until then, the Devil’s instructions to Laura were simple. She was to do as she was told, without question and on the understanding only that he would take care of her and demand nothing that would risk her job or interfere with her work. He would monitor her.

  What had been thrilling but also alarming was now a delightful game, or, as he had explained it, part of her training. Laura was singing to herself as she walked Smudge with a fresh spring in her step, while her mind seethed with memories of what had happened and thoughts of what might be to come. Simply knowing that she was now subject to his discipline would have been enough to keep her aroused, but there was so much more.

  Just the memory of how he had handled her was enough to send a shiver through her body, while it was impossible to think of the actual spanking without wanting to touch herself. Then there had been the feeling afterwards, unlike anything she had ever experienced before, as she clung naked and trembling to his body. He had explained that it was normal for a well spanked girl to react that way, and it would now be a regular part of her life.

  What was less normal was that she had reached a climax purely from the sensation of being smacked, something he knew about but had never encountered before, despite what seemed to be a great deal of experience. She felt proud and happy, while he had been openly impressed with her and hinted at the potential for yet greater pleasures. Twice more she had brought herself to orgasm over the memory as she lay in bed after catching the last train home.

  He had also admitted to having been fascinated with her for a long time, simply for her looks at first, until her taste in books had hinted at her nature. Even then he had held back, knowing how few women suited his tastes and unwilling to compromise, until the day he had found her bookmark and decided to test her. He felt she had responded well, and had explained the mistake in her reasoning which had led her to assume that the man seeking to control her must have been one of her colleagues. He had sent the message telling her she was a good girl not because he’d known she was wearing suspenders at the office, but because he’d seen her with the bag from Pretty Things. The next morning she’d used a different carriage, so he hadn’t known if she was actually wearing them or not.

  Now she was obliged to go bare, or risk punishment, a subtle game that played to the ambiguity of her feelings, setting the pain of spanking against the pleasure it brought. The temptation to disobey on purpose for the thrill of knowing that she would have to face the consequences was strong, but her need to obey stronger still. She had dressed as instructed, and as before, bare under her skirt but for her suspender belt and stockings.

  Her sense of anticipation as she sat on the train was stronger than ever, but she now felt protected, knowing he would be there. She also knew that he would not acknowledge her any more openly than before, and that this was an important part of her ‘training’, although she’d didn’t know why. Feeling safe but aroused, she found the temptation to show off irresistible, deliberately adjusting her skirt as the train slowed for Ely station so that he would find her pretending to read Brigands of Barbary with a thin slice of stocking top on display when he got on.

  Just to see him again made her heart jump, as did the slight rise of his eyebrows as he saw what she was showing, maybe suggesting amusement and approval, maybe the reverse, which raised the prospect of a spanking at the weekend. Nor was he the only one who noticed, Mr Brown taking a sly peek, and Hovis Boy positively goggle-eyed as he struggled to pretend he wasn’t looking. Safe in the knowledge that she was the Devil’s girl, both their reactions now amused her.

  He followed her as they left Cambridge station, tempting her to walk with a deliberate wiggle that she hoped showed off the shape of her bare cheeks beneath her skirt. At one point he came so close he could have touched her, making her wonder if he would dare to smack her seat in public, which brought her feelings to a peak from which they subsided only gradually once they had parted and she made for the office.

  It was hard to concentrate at work, her thoughts constantly drifting to him and all the possibilities life now offered. Fortunately she was given a simple task, up
dating Mr Henderson’s filing system, which she could perform with mechanical detachment while her thoughts dwelt on other, more important, things and she waited for the instruction that she knew she would receive some time during the day. It came shortly before lunch, and was very different to what she had been expecting. GO TO THE BASKET SHOP IN CLARE LANE. PURCHASE A ONE METRE LENGTH OF DARK CANE.

  Laura’s puzzlement lasted only a moment, to be replaced by a sick feeling of nervous excitement. It seemed very unlikely indeed that Charles wanted her to repair some wickerwork for him. Far more likely was that he intended to apply the cane to her bottom, something that had never been done to her but which she was sure would hurt a great deal. She was equally sure that if he felt it necessary, then she would accept it, although the prospect left her biting her lip as she made her way into the centre of town.

  The Basket Shop was more or less as she had been imagining it, a small boutique specialising in old-fashioned wicker baskets, hampers, hanging baskets and just about anything else that could be made of bent cane. She had also been imagining the owner as female, middle-aged and kindly, so that the handsome young man behind the counter came as a surprise, and with no lengths of cane on display she was forced to ask.

  ‘I’d like a one metre length of dark cane, please.’

  He stood up as he replied.

  ‘What’s it for?’

  Caught completely off guard, the blood rushed to Laura’s face as she stammered out an answer, determined to say anything but the truth.

  ‘Um … what’s it for? I, um … does it matter?’

  ‘Yes. We have several grades in stock, for different purposes.’

  He was looking at her strangely, making her certain that he could picture her touching her toes with her skirt rolled up and her knickers pulled down, awaiting the cane like a disobedient schoolgirl. Her blush grew hotter still.

  ‘I … I don’t know, um … that is, it’s not for me.’

  The faint smug grin on his face suggested that he knew perfect well it was for her, in the sense that it was her bottom it would be used on. So did his reply.