Master of Two: Nascent Love

by Derek

  It was with this outlook that Kev unlocked the front door of his home and rolled his luggage in with a sigh. He heard Renee scurrying from the sitting room and smiled at the sound.

  "Master!" She ran into the foyer and dropped to her knees, bowing her head to kiss his travel-dusty boots.

  He gazed down at her tousled hair and smiled. It was good to be home.

  "Hello, pet. Come give me a kiss."

  She rose, beaming with delight at his return, and threw her arms around his shoulders, planting a searing kiss on his lips. Her mouth was warm and familiar, the taste of her light and sweet. "Welcome home, Master," she whispered in his ear as they broke.

  "Thank you." He pushed hair out of his face with a sigh. "Take my briefcase, Renee. This bag is too heavy for you."

  "Yes, Master."

  He watched her hurry away upstairs to his office, his briefcase held against her chest like a prize. Wearily, he hauled his bag up the stairs and dropped it in his big bedroom. It took him a few moments to riffle through a pocket in the bag and pull out the little black velvet box he'd secured there while in Madrid. He pried it open and smiled at the glittering bracelet nestled on black satin. Embedded in the platinum were five marquis-cut emeralds, one for each year Renee had been with him. He put the box in his pocket before crossing the hall to his home office.

  Renee was kneeling near his desk, anticipating him. She was a good girl.

  Kev emptied his pockets on his desk: data key, change, wallet, airline ticket stubs, handkerchief, and a few business cards, the black velvet box. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it to Renee, who folded it neatly. "A little bourbon, Master?"

  She knew him so well! "Yes, pet. Three fingers."

  Nodding, she put the jacket aside and went to the bar in the corner of the room and poured him his drink as he sat down in his desk chair. Kev rested his head in his hands for a moment, rubbing his face, then took the glass from his red-haired servant. "Thank you."

  He watched her kneel beside the desk, and enjoyed the sensation of tension slowly leaving his shoulders. Reaching for the black velvet box, he smiled at his girl. "Our anniversary is tomorrow, hm?"

  She nodded, eyes downcast as she'd been taught.

  "Look at me." The box was smooth in his hands. He offered it to her. "I didn't forget."

  "You never forget, Master." Her smile was genuine and warm.

  Tenderness spread through him and he wanted to see her eyes light up. "Take it."

  Gracefully, she drew the box from his hands, touching it carefully, anticipation making her smile even brighter.

  "Go ahead and open it."

  She levered the black velvet open and peered inside. "Oh! Oh, Master!" She reached in and withdrew the emerald bracelet, holding it reverently along her palm. "It's so beautiful! Thank you!"

  He didn't even try to mute his own smile. He loved that look on her face: genuine delight with no avarice or greed, only unaffected pleasure. "Put it on, why don't you?'

  She shot him a glance, bobbing a little on her knees, put the box down and fastened the bracelet on carefully. Extending her arm out toward him, she turned her wrist this way and that, making small sounds of joy as she watched the light glint off the stones.

  "It's wonderful on you, pet."

  "You're so generous, Master."

  He waved away her compliment. The bracelet had been expensive, but it was barely representative of the affection he had for her. He wouldn't let himself love her—it was an emotion that clouded judgment and brought pain—but she was his and that pleased him tremendously. Kev cupped her smooth cheek and she turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. Lingering a moment, deep pleasure washed over him.

  You can fire up the Jacuzzi. I feel like two-day-old socks."

  She smiled. "Yes, Master." Taking the folded jacket, she left the room to do his bidding.

  Not long after, Kev went to the master bedroom, and changed into his soft bathrobe. Without being told, Renee followed protocol and removed her own clothes, and knelt, waiting, on the pallet at the foot of his big bed. The bracelet shimmered on her wrist as she rested it on her thigh.

  Kev loved the simplicity of his bedroom, the black comforter with red embroidery; the high, black leather headboard and black lacquer tables; the brass-accented lamps, tall armoire and chests of drawers. A red rug with black geometric design covered most of the wood floor. It was a rich room, calming and orderly. Even Renee’s tatami mat and its little sleeping pallet was tidy there at the foot of his bed. She had her own room, but on nights when he might want her service, she was allowed to sleep in his room. This always seemed to please her, even though her bed must be rather hard down there on the floor.

  "Jacuzzi time," he told her, and she followed behind as he wound his way through the hall, down the stairs, and out the French doors into his lush backyard. The pool was lit, blue and pacific, with a rock waterfall tinkling sweetly at one end and flora all around. His Jacuzzi was steaming in the cool, Los Angelean winter air, and he slipped off his robe and sank into the bubbling water with a sigh. Renee followed quietly. After giving him a few minutes to acclimate himself, Renee took up a loofah and began scrubbing him, foot to shoulders. She knew how he liked to be attended to and did it, quiet and smiling cheerfully.

  He moved around to accommodate this washing as he sipped his bourbon and gazed at the stars overhead. Kev tried not to think about business, meditatively considering more pleasant things as Renee put down the loofah and began to massage his tired muscles. It was a good life, and though it would be greedy to ask for more, he’d found something else he might like to own while on this last trip. His fortieth birthday was approaching, and that called for a little present to himself.

  His friend Tighe Bonchamps had let it be known that there was a special girl whose contract was about to be put up for auction by a mutual acquaintance of theirs. Tighe thought it possible that Kev could forestall the auction by making a suitable offer to the girl before the event. Several women—all willing participants—would be available, but there was only one whom Tighe considered worthy of further attention. He sent a photo, a single .jpg of the woman in question, and it piqued Kev’s interest. He made it a point to start the European trip in Paris, so he could talk to Tighe, meet the woman, and talk to her current master about her behavior and experience.

  As it turned out, the girl was sweet and even more attractive than her photo suggested. She was Asian, with long, black hair that brushed her round bottom; small, high conical breasts; a hairless pussy; and, perhaps most intriguing of all, eyes as black as kohl but sparkling with mischief. She was an exquisite jewel, and would be the perfect match for his red-haired, blue-eyed, lithe, and beautiful Renee. Both women were bisexual, so there would be plenty of opportunities for Kev to enjoy them both at the same time without issues. The Asian girl, Amiko, was also a masochist like Renee, so his tendency toward sexual sadism would be accepted, even encouraged. They had to be pushed slightly beyond their previous experience, of course. It wouldn’t be much of a submission if they enjoyed every minute.

  He met the woman briefly. She was intelligent, her English perfect, and able to speak several other languages thanks to her Sorbonne education in language arts. Kev saw her naked, watched her give head to her current master, and observed her reactions to some vigorous nipple torture. She was well-trained. He was not allowed to touch, of course, but he did come home with a series of exceptional pictures on his data key. Her contract price would be high, but he could afford it, and negotiating with her would be amusing. It couldn't be all about money; she was no prostitute. Proceeds would go into a trust fund for her, or there would be no deal. The auction wasn’t to be held until the following week, so he had some time to think it over.

  He’d had other offers before, generally of unsavory character. He was no human trafficker, and would only consider women who were over eighteen, clearly willing, and ready to make a change. He didn’t need any weeping virgins trying to escap
e his "evil clutches." He expected them to serve, not because they were coerced, but because they wanted to serve.

  Education was important to him, and he didn't want to have a woman who couldn't reason coherently or converse on complex issues. In Amiko’s case, she could serve as a translator on a part-time basis locally. Much like Renee with her part-time counseling practice. Whatever money they made at work was theirs to spend or save as they wished. Kev didn't need their income and felt no resentment over paying the household expenses.

  As he exited the Jacuzzi, he decided to show Renee the pictures of Amiko and see how she reacted. It had been several months since the last time he’d hosted a second woman and indulged himself in a ménage a trois, as well as indulging Renee in her craving for lesbian sex. Although he wouldn’t want to give up Renee, if he gauged her reactions, he’d at least know what to expect, perhaps how to prepare her and how stern he would have to be with her to have his way. Renee would never, ever tell him no, but if he asked her directly for her opinion, she would give it. She was an intelligent woman, not a doormat.

  As he walked with Renee up the stairs, he turned to her and said, "Come into my office for a moment. I want to show you something."

  She nodded, smiled sweetly, and followed him in.

  "I have some pictures here. Take a look at them and tell me what you think."

  He loaded in the data key and opened the picture files: Amiko’s smiling face; two full-body shots, front and back; a close-up of her hairless pussy; before and after pictures of her nipples in response to the torture they’d undergone; a butt-spread photo of her tiny, puckered asshole; and, lastly, a few good pictures of her giving head to her current master.

  Renee seemed rapt. It pleased him that her nipples grew hard as she stared. He could smell her excitement as a subtle sign of interest. "Who is she, Master?"

  "I’m considering buying her contract. She's opened it up to bids."

  Renee’s eyes, now troubled, shot to his face. "But—"

  He smiled at her and patted her bottom. "No worries, pet. She’d be a second girl, not a replacement."

  Renee visibly relaxed. "Oh! Well…she’s awfully pretty. That picture of her crying, with her nipples all sore, made me want to kiss her." She turned back to Kev. "I hope that’s okay."

  "More than okay. I have to make a decision in the next few days. I’m leaning toward opening negotiations."

  "Is she nice?"

  "Very nice. Smart. Speaks four languages fluently."

  "Where is she from originally?"

  "Japan. She’s in Paris now."

  Renee considered the pictures intently. "How old is she?"

  He smiled and ran a hand along Renee’s smooth, warm flank. "A little younger than you, but not much. Twenty-two."

  "So, four years. That’s not so much. I wouldn’t want to feel like an old lady in comparison."

  "This is not about you, Renee. I’m not asking for your permission."

  Immediately, she dropped to her knees, head bowed. "I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to imply that."

  "Stand up, pet. I’m not mad at you. You are allowed to have an opinion; you know that."

  She stood, but remained hesitant to speak.

  "What?" Kev was tired. His question came out a bit impatiently and he sighed, getting himself back under control. He was a self-disciplined person, but sometimes it took more effort than other times.

  Renee bit her lip, looking at the pictures on the monitor again. "Will she like me, do you think?"

  He reached for her chin and tilted her face toward his. "She will obey me. She will defer to you—you are the First Girl of my household. And, yes, she’ll like you. But more important than that, I like you."

  Her eyes sparkled. "Thank you, Master. I love you."

  Kev gave her a sincere reply. "That means a lot to me, Renee. Now go get my bed ready." He finished his bourbon and checked his email one last time before bed.

  * * *

  The room was dark. No sunshine penetrated the vertical blinds, no light shone from a light bulb somewhere in the house. The digital clock read 3:06 a.m. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming, but he awoke with a rock hard erection. Kev ran a hand over his face. He was still quite weary, but his dick was insistent.

  "Renee," he called.

  She stirred at the foot of his bed.

  "Renee!"

  Her voice was sleepy, low and slow. "Y-yes, Master?"

  "Come up into the bed."

  "Yes, sir."

  Rustling sounds went quiet as she crawled up onto the bed. "How can I serve you?"

  He took her hand and put it on his stiff cock. "Give me head."

  She caressed his penis with sure fingers. There was interest in her voice as she said, "Yes, Master."

  Within seconds, she knelt between his knees and put her tongue lightly on his balls. She licked for a moment, gliding her hand up and down his dick.

  "No niceties, pet. Get me off so I can go back to sleep."

  In response, she took one of his balls in her mouth, gently tonguing it, letting it go, and moving to the other one. Kev wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled. "Do I need to instruct you?"

  "No, sir! I’m sorry!" Her tongue moved from his balls to the base of his erection, and began to slide up and down with a few firm caresses. Leaning on his pelvis with one hand, she moved her other hand to his testicles and massaged in tempo with her wet tongue. Sure strokes led her to the head of his dick and she rimmed the hole there, tasting the drop of semen he produced. His hand tightened in her hair and he pushed her head down. He could hear her indrawn breath as she took him into her mouth, her tongue vibrating down the length of him as the head of his cock found the back of her throat. Hand in her hair, Kev kept her there, enjoying the heat of her mouth and the pressure of her throat against the head of his cock. Eventually, though, she needed to breathe. Kev counted to three and let her head up. She gasped, but wrapped her tongue around the head of his penis. Once more, he pushed her head down, but let it up more quickly, allowing her to build a rhythm for a time.

  His balls, cool from the evaporation of her saliva, began to feel heavy. His hips began to itch with the urge to begin thrusting, rather than holding still and allowing her to continue to suck him without fucking her face outright. The warmth of her mouth and her quick tongue stole all of his attention. Her silky hair in his hand was a handle on her head, a way to increase or decrease the tempo or the depth of her movements. As the sensations magnified, he pressed her down again and held her until she began to struggle, finally letting her up again to gasp precious air into her lungs. Faster and faster she sucked on him, and he tilted his hips and pressed the back of her head to allow the head of his dick to slam into her throat. Her fingers encouraged his balls to surge, his dick was anxious, but Kev didn’t want to let go…not quite yet. For the last time, he pressed Renee’s head down against him, holding her there several seconds until he could wait no longer. As his first blast shot into the girl’s throat, his hips thrust forward, bowing his back with a pleasure that rolled on, pulse after draining pulse. She swallowed convulsively and he allowed her to breathe as he came. His low moan was comment enough.

  She laid her forehead on his hip as she gasped and recovered. But two minutes later, she rose to get a cloth and wash him off. The warm blanket of terry was good against his satisfied flesh. Sleep, elusive for a brief time, now stole over him. It was awfully good to be home.

  * * *

  Unable to go back to sleep, Renee lay on her pallet, thinking about Kevin and wondering how things had gotten to this point. She knew his birthday was coming up, and it was natural that he’d want to do something special for himself. He didn’t have much family to celebrate with him—just his younger sister—so Renee was pretty much it.

  It reminded her of the worst birthday of her life. She was turning eighteen, and her long-suffering father—a single parent—lectured her on her behavior. She was now an adult, he’d said, and she n
eeded to comport herself better. Her wild dating of "bad boys" and running around on the back of a motorcycle, occasionally using recreational drugs and, somewhat less frequently, getting in trouble with the law, had to stop. He told her to get control of herself, to grow up and take responsibility for her actions and her life. It was an uncomfortable day, both of them saying things they regretted later.

  To some extent though, she listened. She respected her father. He was a strong man with massive self-discipline, and he’d tried to instill that discipline in Renee, mostly unsuccessfully. Her schoolwork had been excellent enough to get her into college at the tender age of sixteen; to that she’d applied herself. But she didn’t have goals in her life. She was racking up a long list of potential regrets and not much else.

  Around that time, she met Tom. Tom was the brother of her best friend, and the only comment her friend would make about him was to roll her eyes and warn that he was kinky. Whatever that meant. But the idea was alluring, so Renee accepted his invitation to a lingerie party and got an eye-popping glimpse of the wild side. The lingerie part of the evening was nothing. She was no stranger to the concept and could dress appropriately. But the dominance games, the submissive responses, these were new.

  He was a pleasant companion, well-respected among his friends—who were many—and seen as one of the dominant males of the group. Women begged him on their knees to pay attention to them. But his eyes were focused on Renee that evening. She was fascinated by the control these dominant men exerted over the submissive women, and how much the women were gratified by it.

  By the second party, Renee was hooked. She was sleeping with Tom by that point—self-control was still a vague concept for her—and was learning to like the thrill of being tied to his bed and teased. Even the pain of nipple clamps was more stimulation than anything else. Occasionally, it made her wonder about herself, but she was not particularly introspective at that time and so she accepted her increasing desire for pain leading to pleasure.