Her Master's Courtesan

by Lily White

  “Calm down, pet. I’m not mad at you. You can’t help that the pussy of yours drives me absolutely insane. I’m just pissed that I’ll need to change before dinner.”

  She smiled in response to my remark.

  Tucking myself away, I pushed up off the bed and moved towards the large closet. I turned back to indicate for her to follow. Walking into the large space, I selected an outfit for her to wear.

  “This is your first presentation. I want you to look as fuckable as I know you to be. Get dressed. We don’t have much time left to get you set up.”

  Rebecca

  He handed me a hanger that held some small straps of black leather, a red bra which had no cups, red panties that had no crotch, and a matching garter belt with lace trim. I looked up in question, but remembered quickly to look back down cursing under my breath to have forgotten that rule from my shock. Luckily, he chuckled over my reaction and I wasn’t going to be punished for my mistake.

  I’d never worn clothes like these before; but I’d seen them in a store several times. On warm days, I would take the long way to school and I would walk by the dirty lingerie shop in the city. I stopped every time, mesmerized by the beautiful slips, negligees, and the see through teddies they always had hanging in the front. They kept the more erotic items in the back and I would try to see them from the window. I ventured inside one day out of curiosity, immediately making my way to the back section. My hands fell on a black leather corset and matching panties, but when the clerk approached me, my cheeks heated with embarrassment and I dropped the item, immediately leaving the store.

  I’d never considered myself a sexy woman; never saw myself as the type who could shed the behaviors and manners demanded of me by the upper class society in which I was raised. Even the few times I had sex with boyfriends, it was always awkward – missionary position only. He’d grunt on top of me and I would lie there, thinking of homework that I had to do or my plans for the following day. When they’d finished, they would roll off satisfied; while I was left a mess, blanketed by sheets damp from their sweat.

  I thought that’s how sex was supposed to be. I thought that the movies and books I read had lied about how incredible it could be. I hadn’t had an orgasm until the first night with Aiden. Getting off on his form of torture was wrong, but I was fast becoming an addict and I was no longer worried about how others would look at me. I could be free for once – free to wear the types of clothes I’d always wanted, free to fuck without being stuck under the weight of a sweaty man who couldn’t get me off – free to be a kept woman - to be somebody’s whore.

  The thought was unsettling, but it was there. A smile peeked out at the corner of my lips when my hand ran over the small bits of fabric on the hanger. I fought with how insane the idea even was, but it didn’t stop the flutter in my stomach and the way my heart pounded in my chest.

  He cleared his throat before his next words came out, chopped and broken with the lust I now recognized in his tone. “I’ll leave you to get dressed. There are some black leather heels I want you to wear as well, I’ll bring them to you when I’m done changing my pants.”

  I watched his shoes move away from me and listened as he crossed the room, opened the door and closed it quietly behind him with nothing more than a small click. Returning my attention to the hanger, I wondered what I would look like in these clothes. I sat down on the bench that ran through the middle of the large space. My eyes took in the mirrored wall at the far end. The closet alone was bigger than my bedroom in my apartment and I allowed myself to luxuriate in its opulence. I didn’t realize how quickly he’d changed me until I slipped on the outfit he’d selected and stood in front of the mirror actually excited for him to see me wear it. When I saw myself, I ran my hands over the curves of my hips, up along my stomach and over my exposed breasts. I realized Aiden had created somebody entirely different from the girl he’d met at the art gallery that day; the naïve girl who wanted to explore the darker places in her mind, but was too ashamed, too prim and proper, to ever allow herself the chance.

  I couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful, how desirable and how sexy the clothes made me feel. For once, I didn’t feel ashamed for expressing my sexuality. It was risqué – yes – but it brought out something in me I didn’t know existed until Aiden forced it to the surface. My body trembled just thinking about what he could do to me; the high peaks he pushed me to when he fucked me and the lows that I fell to when he forced me to my knees. I’d reached a point where I didn’t mind the feel of his body on mine, and now that he’d given me a room and clothes – I didn’t want to be sold off to something unknown.

  My thoughts wandered to the fact that I would be leaving here at some point and my heart felt like someone had reached in and ripped it from my chest. Tears threatened my eyes and my breathing became shallow. I could feel a panic coming on and I tried to break from the ominous and tortured feeling that came with the idea that I would eventually be in the hands of another man. This was obviously a life I’d never chosen and one that I always thought happened to other people. I was a forced whore – a slave for nothing more than sex and a target for the perversions and rage of the man who owned me. It was hard enough to accept this as my life. But it was harder to imagine living this life without Aiden as my Master.

  I laughed a humorless laugh at the thought that I felt affection for him. Just the thought of him or the sound of his name in my thoughts made my knees weak and my heart pound against my chest. A little over a week in and I’d not only accepted what he did to me, I also found some sort of happiness inside it because of him. My heart hurt to think that he would eventually sell me to another man and I would be torn apart once again. I couldn’t let him do it. I needed him to love me enough to want to keep me.

  This was a pivotal realization for me - the idea of love. I would make him believe I loved him so that he wouldn’t want to let me go.

  Up until now, all I’d done was fight against him, deny him, and rebuke him unless he tortured me into obedience. Since he’s known me – except for when we initially met – all I’ve done is reject what he wants. He acts so distant and cold, but looking back so had I. It occurred to me that it was possible that Aiden never kept a courtesan because one had never shown him love. If I could get him to love me – I stood the chance that he would choose to keep me.

  I made a decision while standing in front of that mirror, while looking in my own eyes, and finally facing the reality of my situation. I decided to love my Master – to give my heart, my body, my soul to him. I’d be his perfect pet. I’d obey, I’d seduce, I’d submit … and he would keep me as his own courtesan so that I didn’t have to start again with a strange man.

  If I could get him to want me, to hate the idea of letting me go because I was the most perfect of all the women he’d trained, I could stay where I’d found some bit happiness in this living Hell and I wouldn’t have to let it go to become the slave of another man.

  I was snapped from my thoughts when the door to the bedroom opened behind me. I didn’t turn around when I heard it, choosing instead to watch Aiden’s sensual swagger in the mirror when he entered the closet. He carried a pair of heels in his hand that were so high, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk. His eyes caught mine in the mirror and a playful grin pulled at this mouth.

  “You’re cheating.”

  I looked down immediately and heard him chuckle in response.

  “I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to … I just couldn’t help but watch you.” Quietly, I confessed, “You’re beautiful. I didn’t want to look away.”

  He was quiet for a few moments and there was a tension between us that was so thick I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I expected him to say something, to touch me, to berate me or spank me – but his silence scared me. Had I said something wrong?

  After what felt like an agonizing hour of dense and heavy silence, he finally said, “Let’s go, pet. We have a dinner to attend and you are the guest of honor.” />
  His voice was so cold; it sent shivers across my skin. There was no emotion from him at all and my stomach rolled over itself to a point where I felt like I’d throw up from the pain. My heart hurt so badly at what I took as a rejection of what I felt for him. I turned towards him, relieved to have an excuse not to look him in the eye. I was embarrassed to have offered a compliment only to be met with the uncaring tone of his words.

  Maybe he realized something I hadn’t – maybe he knew I’d only said those things because I didn’t want to be tossed aside. And maybe I knew those things as well, but my heart didn’t know. It still hurt as much as it would have if I’d confessed my love, only to have it refused.

  “You’ll need to wear these.” He held the shoes out so that I would see them. With a shaky hand I took them from him and holding on to a nearby shelf while I balanced on one foot and then the other to slip them on.

  Once I was balanced on both feet again, he walked forward, leading me out of my room and down the corridor and through the kitchen. We passed through two more rooms until, finally, he turned a corner and walked me into a room that stole my breath as soon as I entered it. When I looked up to see where I’d been led, it felt like I was punched in the stomach – gutted by a knife he’d hidden from view. Tears flooded my eyes and I was left drowning in my own shame, embarrassment and degradation.

  “Do you like it?”

  There was humor in his tone and I had to forcefully swallow down the large lump that had formed in my throat. I was past a point of pain or sorrow – I was numb to all the emotions that would accompany anger or heartache. My body was shaking and my mind was moving so fast that I couldn’t slow it down enough to speak or respond. I’d been crushed by the man I’d just called beautiful only minutes before.

  I thought I could love him and he turned around and destroyed me.

  “No.”

  My response came out on a growl and I knew I’d overstepped my bounds with that answer … but I didn’t care. My eyes were trained to the ground and I was really fucking happy to keep them there. I didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see the display he’d created for me of all the pain and humiliation I’d suffered at his hands.

  I didn’t want to see the images of myself, naked and bound, blown up so that they were life-sized before they were framed and hung on the walls.

  Aiden

  “Look up, Rebecca. Open those pretty green eyes and see what you’ve become”

  A wicked grin pulled at my lips and I adored the initial expression on her face when she saw the photographs. They were magnificent, erotic and the quintessential example of how the human body became art.

  Using one finger to pull up her chin, I looked into her face, a mischievous expression obvious in the look in my eye and the smile that stretched across my face. “Don’t be shy, beautiful. When I found you, you were looking at art such as this. You were transfixed as I recall – your cheeks turned pink when I’d first asked you about it.”

  Her bottom lip trembled and I grabbed her chin holding that full lip still. My mouth watered and our faces were so close together, I couldn’t help but pull her jaw open and take her mouth with mine. She whimpered against me after I gripped my other hand into her hair. I pulled her back, bending her head backwards with my mouth moving hungrily over hers, swallowing the pain and fear I’d replaced in her body.

  When I finally released the kiss, she stumbled in her shoes. I caught her around the waist, preventing her from falling.

  “Easy there, pet.” I chuckled at the intoxicated look in her eye. “I want you to show me once again how intelligent you are. You are a lover of art and I’ve made you the thing you love. Tell me what you think of these photographs. How do they make you feel – what emotion do they evoke?”

  I paused giving her time to look around at the four walls of the room. Leaning into her, the heat of my breath rolled across her skin when I said, “I’ll tell you what they make me feel. They make me grateful that such a beautiful woman can exist. They make me lightheaded, because they remind me of how thoroughly your body responds to pleasure – and to pain. They make my dick hard because I remember how it felt to shove my dick into the heat of your perfect cunt. You are unlike anything I’ve known, Rebecca – I will admit that.”

  When I pulled away from her, the light was no longer covered in shadow. The soft glow in the room shone across her skin, reflecting quickly off the single tear that slowly rolled down her cheek. I watched her shatter where she stood, her eyes opened wide, taking in every single detail of the images of her body – bound, naked and positioned in such a way as to make her realize just how broken she’d been.

  I grabbed her arm, forcing her closer to the images, fascinated by her repulsion – her absolute hatred of the reminders of what I’d done.

  “You are beautiful, pet. I told you, I wanted you to see what I saw. I wanted you to appreciate how desirable you are. A rare jewel is not as precious as a woman on her knees. A slave to a man’s every desire.”

  I looked away from her and allowed my eyes to travel around the room. Most of the photographs were in black and white. There was something beautiful about the contrast of a silver chain against black leather when it was portrayed in true monochrome tones. All the same colors of black, white and grey, but it was the multiple shades that gave it depth – made it into an image so stunning, it stole your breath just to look at it.

  There were two or three, however, that I left in color. They were taken from behind when she’d been strapped to the rack with her arms behind her back and her body forced forward. I couldn’t bring myself to have those changed. The red marks across her heart shaped ass and legs were too pretty a shade to be drowned out into nothing but a grey tone.

  It was those images that she stared at the longest – the ones that bore the marks of my punishment – that were unforgiving in their detail.

  We continued to move through the room, from wall to wall – picture to picture – until finally, we reached the center frame that held nothing inside. The gilded frame stood only a foot off the ground, but almost reached the ceiling due to its size. It was two times as wide as me and it had golden cuffs secured at the top corners. At the base corners were two planks of smooth lacquered wood, just big enough for a person’s foot. Shackles were attached to the planks and when Rebecca looked at the frame, she stopped suddenly. Confusion wrinkled her brow initially, but understanding finally rolled behind the green of her eyes.

  I smiled.

  “You will be living art tonight, Rebecca. The centerpiece of the photographs and images I took of you the night before. It’ll be an exhibit unlike anything seen in a museum, art brought to life – life made into art. And you’ll be the most exquisite piece of them all.”

  Her body quivered in my hold and she breathed so quickly I feared she would hyperventilate. Her skin had lost its color and a fine sheen of sweat broke out over her forehead. She tried to back away from the frame, but I placed my hand on the small of her back, preventing her retreat.

  “Tsk, beautiful girl, you’re moving in the wrong direction. Be a good girl and step up on the frame. I’ve had it secured especially to hold your weight. You won’t fall – I can promise you that.”

  She shook her head, but the movement was so slight I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been taking in every detail of her fear and hesitancy. I enjoyed watching her eyes grow large when she finally understood my intentions and I enjoyed the several seconds of her confusion that came before. Like a spider, I weaved a web around her, drawing her in with the fleeting idea of beauty, of lust…of love. But every time she got too close, every instance that she dared trust that things would turn out in her favor, she learned that she been caught in my game once again.

  “Step up.” I held her hand to steady her, wondering if she’d be able to balance in the heels I’d selected for her to wear. I could have taken pity on her, could have made her more comfortable by allowing her to spend the evening barefoot and not t
eetering on small bits of wood barely big enough for her foot. But, there was no fun in that. Part of being a courtesan was the ability to seduce – to entice – even in situations where you are uncomfortable and barely able to do so. She needed to be pushed to a new limit. She had to learn what was expected of her – and that her comfort, her dignity and her happiness were not something she could demand.

  I knew I destroyed her with the photographs and I knew it would ultimately break her more when the dinner guests arrived. They would walk the walls, judging and remarking on the photos – on her – as if she were nothing more than a beautiful object left out on display for all to observe. She was a decoration, not a person, or a heart or a soul – a thing. A thing that is owned wholly, a thing that has no say in what happens to it or who owns it.

  It was time she learned that she is no longer a human being with the rights to her emotions, thoughts or opinions. She was a pet – nothing more or less than an animal a person would own and care for – or not care for. It was the owner’s decision what happened to her.

  Her words from the closet came to mind. I’d been in shock initially to hear her admit something so personal; to speak words complimenting a man who’d not only abducted her, but who’d also tortured her into submission. That’s not to say I’d never heard them before; but not so soon. I inwardly questioned the motive behind her voicing them. What was the game she attempted to play back? Was she so brazen, she didn’t think I’d suspect it? I was angry and curious almost immediately after she’d spoken them, but I chose to hide those emotions in order to play my hand.

  Judging by the expression on her face now and the tears that slipped down her cheeks to realize what I had planned – it appeared, quite clearly, that I’d held the aces in the game and when I laid down my cards, her game ended.

  “Step up, pet. My guests will be here soon and I promised them a masterpiece. You are expected to remain quiet while you are bound – to not flinch if a man wants to touch or taste you – to make me proud and show off the rewards of my hard work.”