by Lily White
(Book One of the Master’s Series)
By Lily White
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Her Master’s Courtesan: Copyright © 2014 by Lily White
Cover: Copyright @ 2014 by Cover Me Darling
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, distributed in any printed or electronic form or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-0-9915666-5-5
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This book contains graphic descriptions of sexual and physical violence. This is not a light and fluffy story. This is NOT a love story. There are no unicorns, fluffy kittens, squishy feelings or hearts and flowers. This is a story filled with mindfuckery. If you are looking for love – you’ve come to the wrong place. I cannot stress that enough. If you are agreeable with these terms – please proceed and have a nice day.
For additional clarification – please see the Merriam-Webster Definition of ‘Dark’:
Definition from Merriam Webster:
1dark adjective ˈdärk
: having very little or no light
: having more black than white : not light
Full Definition of DARK
1 a : devoid or partially devoid of light : not receiving, reflecting, transmitting, or radiating light;
2 a : arising from or showing evil traits or desires
b : dismal, gloomy
d : relating to grim or depressing circumstances
I am a Master. I want to first mention this fact to allow you to understand the story I am about to tell you. It’s a heavy blanket of tragedy – and I have no regrets. I capture women, I break them down and I rebuild them. If they are lucky, they are sold into the hands of another owner. If they are less fortunate, they are buried beneath the ground, never to be thought of again.
There is no room for error in my business. It takes years of practice and inherent skill to adequately break a young woman’s mind, without breaking her body in the process. I will admit my success rate was poor when I was younger. There were many women who died at my hands and only a handful of faces that still haunt me. But I lust for the control, I demand absolute submission – my body yearns to warp the minds of those I train.
Control is the only thing I’ll ever need.
With my first conquest came excitement and elation – maybe a word as simple as joy can describe the high I received when the first woman’s body shuddered beneath me – when her mind snapped and she no longer resisted whatever desire I had. I became addicted to the feeling of ultimate control.
I am wealthy, good-looking, educated and charming. I spent years sharpening my wit while also perfecting the face and body I use to lure the innocent.
I am, in no way, a good man.
I do not want love.
I do not want kindness.
She thought she could change me by giving me the two things I knew I never wanted.
She was wrong.
Aiden
“Excuse me, miss, but I think you may have dropped this.”
Her blond hair spun around her shoulders like expensive silk when she turned to look at me. Her face immediately blushed; the red sprawling across the alabaster perfection of her cheeks in such a way that I could guess she had her share of hopeful admirers.
I held out the handkerchief that I previously pulled from her purse when she stood looking at a painting in the art gallery where I’d followed her. It took two days to track her and study her mannerisms in public. She always behaved like a woman at ease – one who believed a bright future was laid out so easily in front of her. She was the type that never suspected and never bothered to glance around at their surroundings – the type that made it so easy.
“Oh! I …” She huffed out a breath and took the handkerchief from my hand, my finger extended out to purposefully rub across hers. Her blush was enticing and I wondered if it spread across her entire body as deeply as it did her face.
“I must have left my purse open again. Thank you.” Her words tripped over themselves and I smiled kindly, completely aware of the attraction she felt towards me. It was instantaneous and it was all I needed to get what I wanted.
“This is an interesting exhibit they have this week. A bit erotic for my tastes, but I admire the artist’s ability to capture the emotion of her subjects,” I commented.
She blushed again, obviously embarrassed to have been caught so mesmerized by the painting that hung on the wall. It was a simple mix of black, white and red – the curved lines of a couple in the throes of passion. The brushstrokes themselves were made seductive by the subjects they captured.
“Um, yes, I liked the color scheme of this one. It’s a little risqué, somewhat darker than the others.”
“You’re drawn to the taboo?” I continued to tease and I purposefully moved to brush against her shoulder while waiting for her response.
“Not … well, not normally. But I do admire this piece. I feel the artist was able to capture what some would consider taboo and paint it in such a way as to render it beautiful and true.”
My eyes flicked up at the painting and I admired the pose the woman had taken before the man she seduced. She knelt down before him as she presented her body for his dominance and use. She was glancing back at the point where his body was attached to hers and you could see that her face was turned to the side with a lace blindfold secured around her eyes. A blood red color was used to paint the sash that bound her hands above her head.
Looking back down at the blushing woman, I realized this would be easier than most of the other acquisitions I’d made. Extending my hand, I introduced myself. “My name is Aiden.”
She took my hand, gentle in the way she squeezed my fingers in greeting. “Hello Aiden. My name is Rebecca. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Would you mind if I escorted you around to see the rest of the exhibit? I’m interested to know your thoughts on the other paintings. I’m not much of an art person, however, so you may well have more knowledge than me.”
She smiled shyly and I returned the gesture.
She quickly explained, “I’m in school studying art history, actually. That’s why I’m here. We need to select one piece to critique.”
“And I take it that you’ve chosen this one as your favorite?”
“It intrigues me.”
I smiled brighter.
“If you don’t mind partnering with a novice…” I extended out my arm to indicate the rest of the exhibit. “I’d love to hear your expertise. I’ll even buy you coffee afterwards for putting up with my lack of education in the art world.”
She didn’t hesitate to take my arm.
It was as simple as that - and it was the moment her bright future vanished before her unseeing eyes.
…
“Yes, I’ve secured the order. It should take no more than a month to have her trained and ready for transport. Have you wired the first half of your payment?”
The cell phone was gripped in my hand. My feet marched steadily across the wooden floors of my office when I paced the room discussing the terms of our transaction.
“The money has been wired. I’ll be there in 30 days to inspect your work. I hear you are the best. Let’s hope I’m not disappointed when I arrive.”
His veiled threat was of no concern – but it still was not something I was willing to accept. “Do not thre
aten me, Duke. I’m certain you will not like the results. You know how this game is played; I secure the order – you pay me half. When I deliver, you provide me with the rest of the funds. If the delivery is not made due to unfortunate circumstances, your money will be refunded to you. I haven’t failed to deliver in over 9 years therefore, I’m certain this transaction will progress without incident – but I refuse to allow you even the attempt at intimidation. Do you understand me?”
His responsive laugh was surprising, “Spoken like a true Master. I look forward to experiencing the fruit of your work, my friend. Enjoy her for me. I want her spread and begging when I arrive.”
“Consider it done.” I ended the call and turned to look out the picture window of my office. It faced a small, babbling creek – simplistic and peaceful despite the activities that had occurred on this property over time. The wind blew gently through the branches of the willow trees bathing the scenery in tranquil motion, dancing shadows spread across the ground by the light of the moon.
Her screams interrupted my thoughts and I checked my watch to see if it was time to approach her yet. Only an hour had passed since she’d awaken, no doubt terrified to find herself bound in a dark room. It was always the same and I decided to give her another hour to settle into a nice deep state of shock, to let her accept her surroundings more so than when she first discovered them.
Looking out the window again, my eyes locked to the pearlescent moon sitting large and proud at the horizon, the craters and divots obvious against the stark white of its surface. The night sky was jet black, an infinite number of stars tossed carelessly across its expanse. Losing myself in thought, my mind slowly returned to Rebecca and to the task I knew I had ahead of me - when I took the beautiful, happy woman and turned her into the perfect whore.
I’d been in the acquisition business now for 10 years. When I was 17, I took a summer job as a runner for a wealthy entrepreneur named Wayne Grimly. He took a liking to me almost instantly – often stopping me in the halls to discuss my background and ambitions. He saw something in me that I hadn’t yet discovered.
It wasn’t long until he introduced me to a courtesan he’d obtained through a friend and encouraged me to take her into another room. Simply explaining that she was there to fulfill my sexual needs, he emphasized that I was to do exactly what I wanted, however I wanted – noting that she wouldn’t complain or resist. Something dark stirred within me - images and illicit fantasies rushing to the forefront of my thoughts. I looked down at the girl who knelt at the feet of Mr. Grimly.
She was magnificent, I remember that. Following behind me silently, eventually bowing at my feet once we’d entered the room. Her ebony hair spilled out around her face and across the smooth wooden floor. I stepped around her slowly, making sure to punctuate my approach with the heavy fall of my shoes against the ground. Her body was so still, the smooth expanse of skin stretched taut over her parted ass. My cock shoved up against my pants, tight and painful, begging for release.
I bit my lip from the anticipation and tasted the bitter iron of my blood. Kneeling before her, I unbuttoned my pants, pulling myself free, the width pulsing and hardening even more in response to the heat of my hand. I wanted to bury myself in every orifice the girl had to offer.
“Your mouth. I’m going to fuck that first.”
Her hazel eyes peeked up at me from beneath her lashes. She didn’t argue or complain. There was no hesitation when she lifted her head from the ground and wrapped the wet heat of her lips tightly around the head of my cock, her tongue flicking out to lick along the rim.
My head fell back from the sudden rush of power it gave me to dominate the woman. I didn’t know her name or one fucking thing about her – and I didn’t want to. She was nothing more than an object; a body to be used for my pleasure alone.
Her head bobbed up and down, her hair tickling my thighs where it fell from her head. I wrapped my hands into the thick mane and forced her faster – deeper – over my cock. She choked and still, I pushed her harder and I felt her throat wrap around the tip. Her mouth was a masterpiece; built to fit around me, to suction close so that the skin rolled smoothly over her lips and tongue. I exploded inside her while simultaneously gripping my fist into her hair.
“Swallow.”
When I pulled out, her throat moved to wash me away - her lips popping to release the full size of my cock. She looked up at me, never moving or shifting her position until I told her she was permitted to do so.
“Turn around, forehead to the ground, ass in the air.”
She presented herself beautifully in front of me. Her head down, her heart shaped ass pushed up into the air, ready and begging for me. I reached down and gripped my fingers around the soft flesh, squeezing to a point where she bucked in my hold. There was no sound, no painful cry as I’d expected. Spreading her apart in front of me, I ran my fingers down and into the tight wet heat of her cunt, pushing up until my fingers were buried inside her, stroking along the muscles as they rippled in response to my touch. My cock felt like it would split apart from the sudden rush of blood and I removed my hand to push myself inside her.
Her responsive moan was music to my ears and I grabbed the back of her head, forcing her down harder against the floor, pumping myself selfishly inside her, using her for the slut that she was. She tensed around me, her body releasing an orgasm that only served to lubricate my shaft. I needed more, a tighter fit, something that would have this woman writhing beneath me, completely taken over by my cock.
For these moments, she was mine to do with as I pleased – no argument, no bullshit whimpers or tears, just a body to be taken, ridden until my satisfaction had been met. Pulling out once again, I positioned myself at the puckered opening to her ass, forcing myself slowly inside, loosening her as I buried myself to the hilt. When she’d taken the full length of my cock, I moved inside, slipping in and out until her muscles milked me of everything I still had built up inside. My body convulsed when I shot hard and powerfully into her, my head falling back and my eyes opening up to the beginning of something beautiful and good.
It was my first taste of ultimate control – of power I’d never before experienced. But it was only a small taste as I would later discover.
When I’d taken my fill – used her and abused her to my absolute delight – I led her back out to Mr. Grimly, sated and soiled. She moved to immediately kneel at his feet upon our return and he looked up at me expectantly.
He was waiting for me to talk, so I offered the only thing I had to say. “That was a pleasant experience. Definitely worth the money you pay her.”
Grimly laughed, a deep bellied cackle that caused my brows to furrow in response.
“I don’t pay this bitch a fucking dime.” He kicked out at her, shoving her to the ground before him. She remained where she landed, not daring to move or cry out in pain or shame.
“She’s a courtesan, Aiden. Do you know what that means?”
I nodded my head, confusion still rattling across my mind at the term. “She’s a high class, high money prostitute.”
“Not exactly.”
My curiosity was peaked at the wicked grin that stretched across his thick lips.
“I’m part of a very exclusive gentleman’s club as we like to refer to it. Only men of extreme wealth are allowed to take part, and only men whose tastes are similar to ours. These women are what the average person would term a ‘slave’; a woman who, for some reason or another, has been trained to service our needs without complaint. We refer to them as ‘courtesans’ because it sounds so much nicer than what they actually are.”
My eyes widened, but I didn’t dare interrupt what he was telling me.
“Essentially, these women are owned – traded amongst the group when our needs alter or we’ve become bored with the ones we already have. We have several men in the group who are called ‘Masters’. They are a select few who have the qualities necessary to acquire and train the women for our services. One look
at you and I knew you’d be the perfect Master. I’d like to introduce you to an associate of mine, a man by the name of Jack Renault. He can teach you everything you need to know. Eventually, it will make you a very wealthy man.”
Money. That was a language I understood. Wealth was the only thing I wanted – not love or companionship or a family – no. I wanted what could be bought and sold, and I wanted the means of having whatever I desired at the tips of my fingers. Having the ability to fuck how I pleased, indiscriminately, and without the necessity of whispering false affections was simply an added bonus.
“I am interested to meet Mr. Renault.”
Mr. Grimly smiled. “Excellent, Aiden. You are living up to everything I imagined you could be.”
I opened the door slowly, allowing the light from the hallway to flash against her face, blinding her eyes that, by now, were used to the terrifying darkness of the room. She sat on the bed, her arms bound at her back, her legs chained to the heavy iron frame.
She startled as soon as I entered, backing away from the sudden intrusion. I was backlit and I knew she couldn’t see my face – couldn’t see the smile that threatened the corners of my lips. Closing the door, I stood silently, waiting to see if she would scream again or call out. When she did neither, I relaxed against the wall, staring at her silhouette. There was absolute silence between us for several minutes and I waited for the one brave question they always asked first.
“Who are you?”
“You know who I am.”
She grew quiet again and I stepped forward carefully – silently - so as to avoid forewarning her of my approach. By the time she sensed me, I was close enough to reach out, to softly stroke the back of my hand across her cheek.
She jumped, the chains on her legs rattling from the movement and I introduced her to the first lesson she needed to learn.
Wrapping my hand tightly across her mouth, I pushed her into the wall, my face only inches from hers when I gave my first instruction.
“Jump away from me again and I will punish you.”
She whimpered beneath my palm.
“You will do as I say, exactly as I say from now on…”
