Mastered: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender

by Opal Carew

  Her clothes were outside. Where Ben was.

  Her heart thud-a-thudding, she opened the bathroom door.

  Ben was lying on the bed, fully clothed and reading a magazine. He had a glass in his hand that contained an inch of amber fluid she guessed was whisky, and as she entered, he put it to his lips and took a leisurely sip. His eyes were on her though, staring over the rim at her intently as he swallowed.

  He looked like a young god idly perusing his lowly subject.

  “I thought we’d take a late dinner,” he said casually, then took another sip of his drink. “Unless you’re hungry now?”

  Only for you. Only for you.

  “I… er… I’m fine. Thanks.”

  The answer sounded woefully incomplete, as if there should have been more.

  It was astonishing how easy it would have been to add the word “master.”

  “Good!” he said with a strangely satisfied smile, then he finished his whisky, set the glass aside, and sprang lightly to his feet. “I think I’ll freshen up. I won’t be a moment.”

  As he walked toward the bathroom, he paused and looked back pointedly at the magazine on the bed.

  He wants me to read it.

  Then, with another small, knowing smile, he disappeared, closing the door behind him with a decisive snick.

  For a moment, Sarah was frozen in place. Why was she afraid of a magazine? She’d read that book Maggie had been passing around, and this was only the same sort of thing, but with pictures. What was wrong with her, why was she being such a scaredy-cat?

  But the shiny pages seemed to reach out and taunt her from across the room. Still not looking at it, she grabbed Ben’s glass, sloshed a little more whisky into it, and gulped the drink down, making herself cough. Panicking, she refilled it with water and sipped a bit of that, slowly. She didn’t want to get tipsy by mixing spirits with the champagne already in her.

  When she sat down and started to flick through the pages, she discovered that the magazine was exactly what she’d feared—hoped?—it might be.

  It was bondage journal.

  Full of erotic corporal punishment.

  A high-quality, beautifully produced publication, but a spanking magazine nevertheless.

  As she perused an image of an exotic dark-haired woman in a black corset draped across a stern-looking man’s knee and being spanked, everything about her confused feelings for Ben dropped perfectly into place. And her reaction to the tap on her rump made crystal-clear sense.

  This is it. Exactly it. This is what he really likes. And so do I… I think.

  The sound of the bathroom door opening made her jump physically into the air and sent the magazine slithering to the floor. Ben walked swiftly across, picked it up, and studied the same image Sarah had been looking at. He’d removed his tie, she noticed, and unbuttoned his waistcoat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

  Her heart did a flip as he closed the magazine, set it on the bedside table, and sat down beside her.

  “I guess you know what I want now, don’t you?” His brown eyes were luminous, like the whisky with a brilliant light shining through it.

  Sarah’s tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, but after a moment, she managed to gasp, “Yes!”

  Ben’s eyes were unwavering upon her, searching, searching.

  “It’s your choice, Sarah… I don’t want us to do anything you don’t like. We can simply have a delightful weekend here… relax, walk, enjoy good food and wine”—he paused for a second—“make love… Nothing more than that.”

  She found her voice again. “But this…” She gestured to the magazine. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

  His shoulders lifted in the slightest of shrugs. “It is… it is…”

  The air in the room seemed heavy and difficult to draw in. But Sarah pulled in a lungful of it, straightened her spine, and looked at him as bravely as she could.

  “Then I want it too.”

  “Are you sure? It isn’t a frivolous game to me… I take this quite seriously. You need to know that before we start.”

  Sarah’s heart leapt, galloped. But part of her was more sure of herself than ever before in her life. Sure that she wanted the real thing, not the shadow of it she’d giggled about with her friends.

  “It’s serious to me too,” she said, “I want it. Now.”

  Again, a long look.

  “Very well, Sarah.” Relaxed, he steepled his long, elegant fingers in his lap and cocked his head to one side, his smooth brown hair gleaming in the lamplight. “Stand up, please, and take off your robe. Then place your hands on your head, and turn slowly, showing yourself to me.”

  Obeying him, Sarah felt as if she were floating, insubstantial, like a feather. As she shucked off the soft robe, she felt more naked than she ever previously had with him. More exposed than the times when he’d crouched between her thighs, licking her sex.

  She was astonished that the warm air on her skin felt like a caress and the uncovered state of her body a slow, lascivious exploration. Her nipples had puckered to a state of hardness so intense it was painful, and to her embarrassment, as she moved, slowly turning, a sticky trickle of arousal welled from her pussy and flowed down the inside of her thigh.

  Unbelievably, Ben’s dark brows lifted as she completed her circle, and he was watching the oozing progress of the fluid down her leg.

  “You’re eager, aren’t you?” he observed softly. “You’re wanton and willful… easy to rouse.”

  She opened her mouth to admit it and he made swift little chopping motion. “No, you mustn’t speak. You must be still and quiet now. Obedient. Without ego.”

  Before she could react in any way, he cupped her breast, his fingers firm, authoritative. He gave her a swift, assessing squeeze, first one, then the other, as if he were judging the flesh of a fine horse or other prized animal.

  A second later, his hand went between her legs and gripped her just as possessively.

  A gasp escaped her lips, and Ben gave her a tiny warning nod, his lids lowering slightly as he tightened his hold on her sex. Lifting his hand upward, he made her rise on her toes. Not to avoid the delicious pressure, but to try to ameliorate her uncontrollable reaction to it.

  In the space of a few moments, she was almost ready to come. And he hadn’t even begun what he intended to do to her.

  But he was gently merciless. Beyond her conscious control, her body began to gather itself, and as if sensing her imminent crisis, he softly murmured, “Tut-tut. Pain first… then pleasure.”

  Sarah’s insides fluttered. Not just her sex, but in her heart, her chest. She felt as if she were on a precipice above some great, secret valley. Ready to fling herself forward.

  When Ben released her sex, it was as much of a shock as if he’d suddenly begun the spanking already. The lack of his fingers against her was like a gouging void that she’d do anything to fill.

  “Lie across the bed,” he said quietly. “Facedown, with your hands stretched out in front of you… You may look in my direction or away… that’s your choice.”

  Almost unable to move properly from excitement, she obeyed him. Her limbs seemed to be made of rubber and uncontrollable, but she managed to assume the pose he’d specified. She was afraid to look at him, so turned her face away, even though in her mind she could still see him perfectly.

  “Good. That’s very good. You’re doing well.”

  Am I? I don’t think so… I’m all over the place.

  She felt the mattress dip and imagined Ben inclining toward her, his weight on one hand while with the other he reached out toward her exposed bottom.

  Expecting a spank and braced for it, she gasped when the first touch was light and exploratory.

  It won’t be so bad. It’s my first time. I bet he barely does anything at all.

  And indeed, the second touch was nothing at all. Just a tap on her left buttock, barely more than the light touch that had started all this, close to an hour ago, yet in an
other lifetime.

  Then… more taps. A little harder. Definitely making an impact, but still fine.

  I’m okay. I can take this. It’s all right.

  In fact, it was more than all right. Her sex was glowing, becoming soft and pouched and wetter than ever. The slight impact of the little smacks was gently knocking her core where she was pressed against the mattress.

  “Oh!”

  How had that happened? One minute, soft taps, and then, suddenly, with no discernable increase in effort, the taps weren’t taps any more but full-blown spanks. And they were hard. They hurt. They really hurt.

  “Oh!” she cried again when Ben’s hand seemed to catch a particularly tender spot on the under-hang of her cheek. Her whole bottom was glowing now, drenched in heat. It was uncomfortable, unsettling, quite painful, and yet the shivering warmth in her flesh was sinking down into her sex and firing it up in a way she’d never yet experienced. Her whole pussy seemed to be fizzing like the champagne had done. Effervescing with a delicious yet forbidden pleasure.

  How? Oh, how is this happening? He’s hurting me, yet… yet… Oh God, I want him to hurt me more!

  To her astonishment, Sarah realized she was lifting her bottom in syncopation with the slaps, raising the target up to improve Ben’s aim and to invite and seduce more blows. She was simmering on the edge of orgasm, and every time he hit her, he pushed her ever closer to the longed-for implosion of pleasure.

  She cried out keenly when he stopped, and she turned her face to implore him with her eyes. To beg him to grant her more pain, more pleasure… Oh, dear Lord, she hardly knew the difference.

  Ben’s eyes were beautiful, wise, and kind. Despite the fact that he was denying her what she wanted. But he seemed to understand as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her tearful cheek and whisper in her ear.

  “You’re doing beautifully, Sarah, my love… Better than I could ever have wished. But you must wait a little for your prize. The waiting will make it all the more sweeter.”

  Even though she was sobbing with need, with frustration, and from the now extreme soreness in the flesh of her bottom, she believed him. She believed him utterly.

  He was Ben. He knew all. He was her sweet master.

  Sliding a hand beneath her, he grasped her nipple between his finger and thumb and delicately tweaked it while with his other hand, he ran the tips of his fingers over her reddened skin, making her hiss through her teeth.

  Oh, you’re a devil… and you’re an angel… Oh God, I love you.

  And it was true. He was inflicting torments on her, plying her flesh for his entertainment, his arousal… and yet, no man until now had ever even gotten near to sensing that this was what she wanted and what she needed to complete her.

  She’d had no idea herself, even while she’d been reading that borrowed book. All she’d felt were the faintest intimations that she’d dismissed as nothing more than vague curiosity, just a laugh. Because there had been no man she could ever imagine wanting to do those things with. No man she wanted to submit to.

  It had taken quiet, mysterious Ben Chambers to look right into her hidden psyche and see the real Sarah. Ben Chambers, who could transform her with that one gentle pat on her bottom. Ben Chambers, whose magical secret was that he was the man who completed her fantasies.

  The little pinches to her nipple were beautifully orchestrated, timed exactly to counterpoint the slow drag of his nails over her simmering bottom.

  Sarah couldn’t keep still, though she knew he wanted her to. But she sensed his patience and his pleasure in her progress, and some cool, sane part of her vowed she would do better next time, to make him proud of her.

  As it was now though, she was right on the brink of madness… and orgasm.

  Her heart whirling and her bottom and her sex on fire, she listened almost from a distance to the sound of her own mewing and moaning observed from somewhere near the elegantly molded ceiling her own body writhing and squirming around on the beautiful chintz quilt as Ben dealt with her.

  “Are you ready now, my dearest?”

  His voice was like milk and honey in her ear. Sweet and calm, yet undershot with a silvery thread of excitement that made her heart sing.

  She nodded against the quilt, gazing up into his brown eyes as he drew back and looked down on her.

  “It will hurt… quite a bit… but there’ll be pleasure too. Great pleasure… I promise you.”

  And with that, he slid his hand under her belly, flat against it, palm upward, and found her center with his long, flexible forefinger.

  A second later, he pressed, and pressed hard, and at the same time loosed the hardest slap ever against her bare and tender buttocks.

  “Agh!” Sarah’s cry was high and clear and ringing as a bell.

  Just like the orgasm that accompanied it.

  So perfect, so pure, so fiery, stirred to a shining peak of intensity by the inferno in her bottom.

  Her legs kicked wildly, she shook her head, and she ground herself down hard onto the pad of his fingertip. Her orgasm flared again, rising to another level that filled her mind with white light and her body with utter joy.

  Seconds, or perhaps hours, or even millennia later, she collapsed, as limp as a kitten, aware of Ben’s hands still upon her—between her legs and on her reddened bottom—but very little else. Yet within moments, her awareness came flooding back, bringing with it the soft, murmuring sound of her lover’s voice.

  He praised her. He soothed her. He whispered the most enchanting nothings. And finally said, “I’d like to make love to you now… In fact, I think I need to.”

  Blinking, she rolled a little to one side, flinching at the tingling in her bottom, and looked up into his eyes. Which were astonishing.

  Almost black with desire and scorching emotion.

  He was proud of her. He did admire her. But their intensity said he felt much, much more. It was frightening, but she wanted to sing and kiss him senseless all the same.

  Instead she said, “Yes! Oh yes! Please do!” although the honeyed lethargy in her body meant she could barely move.

  Ben smiled, obviously aware of the state her spanking had left her in. He leant over, kissed her almost chastely on the brow, then reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a foil-wrapped condom.

  Oh, how she would have loved to help him put it on, but she seemed to have not one calorie of energy left in her body. She only watched as he unfastened his beautifully tailored trousers and reached into his linen and drew out his penis.

  Oh my! Oh my!

  He was marvelous. He seemed bigger. He was ferociously erect. She’d never seen a more delicious, appealing sight. With a slightly desperate efficiency, he rolled on the contraceptive, then took Sarah by her shoulders and pressed her flat on her back.

  She was dimly aware of her abused bottom protesting, but as every other part of her was cheering and delirious with hunger for him, she ignored it.

  And sighed with delight when, with no further ado, and because there was no mistaking the fact she was completely ready for him, he moved over her and pushed his glorious length inside her.

  It was like the first time with him, over again, but so completely different they might as well have been performing a different intimate act altogether. Her senses were magnified to the nth degree, her perception of his body and the way it moved was infinitely more vivid.

  The flesh that thrust inside her was the same as ever, but it touched her more sweetly, more poignantly, more powerfully. Her head felt as if it were filled with Ben’s delicious cologne, and the slight but sharp odor of his fresh, sexual sweat. She couldn’t have said which was the most intoxicating, but they both made her hunger and her rapture swirl and spiral.

  His mouth moved over her face, her neck, her hair, the kisses as delicate and reverent as the thunder of his long, hard, gliding strokes was wild and animal. He was raw, yet sophisticated. A mysterious conundrum that she seemed to have known in her bones from the dawn o
f time.

  Holding him, grabbing at his back and buttocks as she soared yet again toward climax, she bent her knees and tilted her hips, drawing him in deeper and deeper. Every movement was unconscious, purely instinctive, yet right. As he plunged in, Ben groaned loudly, his breath a zephyr against her throat. He grabbed her to him, his fingers blindly cruel against the soreness of her buttocks as he lifted her, yet the very pain-spikes only increased the gathering pleasure.

  At last, Sarah could take no more. With a great cry, she surrendered to the dazzling sweetness, the searing orgasm. Her limbs flailed, her core pulsated, her heart thudded, contracted, turned over, full of love. From a great distance she heard Ben’s own shout of completion and felt the thump, thump, thump of his last frenzied strokes.

  This was what I was waiting for… the next level… his secret. His beautiful secret.

  Sweet and clear, the thought formed in her mind some time later as she lay in a haze beneath the still-clothed and still heavily breathing body of the man she knew she loved.

  Eventually, Ben lifted himself clear of her and looked down into her eyes. His were luminous, shining, full of happiness, a mirror, she suspected of her own.

  Neither of them spoke. Ben disposed of the condom and zipped himself up with quiet dignity, then draped a soft throw across Sarah’s naked body. Then he sat a moment beside her, just gazing at her fondly for a while. He held her hand, lifted it to his lips, and slowly kissed it.

  “We should get ready for dinner,” he said presently, his finely modeled lips curving into a smile. “I wonder… would you like to bathe again? I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up quite a sweat making love.”

  Sarah laughed. “Oh yes… Definitely… I need a shower… a bath… something.”

  “I’ll run it for you. Rest a while.” Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he rose and left for the bathroom.

  Chapter Three

  They prepared for dinner like an old married couple, comfortably sharing the space of the room, walking to and fro, selecting clothes, bathing, and dressing.