by Luke, Jason
“Over women.”
“Yes,” I said. “Over women.”
“So, why are we here tonight if this room reminds you of your father?” Leticia puzzled. “Why aren’t we in your study, or in some other room of the house?”
I slapped the tabletop. “Because of this,” I said. I rubbed my hand across the faded leather surface. “I wanted you to see it.”
“The desk?”
“Yes. It’s where the next part of my journey towards becoming a Master took place.”
Leticia arched an eyebrow. “Should I make notes?”
“That’s up to you,” I said. I pushed myself out of the chair and got to my feet. I took another sip from the tumbler then set the glass on the desk. I needed to pace.
Leticia buried her hand into her bag for her notebook, then turned in her chair so she could follow me with her eyes. I prowled across the floor restlessly.
“After that night in the study, Claire knew I was in control, and although she still fought and defied me from time to time, she gave in more readily, until she simply stopped resisting and became obedient to my commands. In fact, I think she developed a taste for submission. Maybe it was something completely new to her – maybe she was discovering something about herself. Maybe it was an unexplored kink that turned her on,” I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. I was nineteen years old. Some of the tasks I set Claire were things I am not proud of – but all I had to go on was the way she had treated me. At the time I didn’t know any better. I didn’t understand anything about BDSM. All I knew was that Claire had blackmailed me and used me for her own pleasure. I set about doing the exact same thing to her.
“Our encounters became a dangerous game. The thrill of having power over her body was intoxicating, but it wasn’t enough. I started taking risks.
“One afternoon, as we were finishing study for the day, I summoned her to my father’s office. I told her to meet me there at exactly 4:30 pm. I told her that if she was even a minute late, she would be punished.
“My father’s office was on the first floor, a few doors down from the study. Claire had never been in the room before and the door was always closed. I knew my father was away until that evening. When I heard Claire knock, I was sitting in this chair, behind this desk, waiting for her.
“She came into the room cautiously. ‘Over here,’ I told her gruffly. ‘Stand beside me and undress.’ She obeyed me. She unbuttoned her blouse and handed it to me. Then she slid out of her skirt. I took it from her. She stood in front of me in her underwear, and I could see the anxiety and rising alarm in her eyes. She was scared, but the fear aroused her. She was sweating and trembling. I could smell the scent of her panic, but also her excitement. I got up from the chair and ran my hands over her. I unfastened her bra and her breasts fell free. I left the bra on the floor beside the desk and grazed my fingernails down her spine. She arched her back and purred like a cat.
“I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth. A rash of goose bumps spread down her arms, and she made a little choking sound in the back of her throat. I felt the nipple harden between my lips and I nibbled and sucked until she shuddered gently. Sucking Claire’s breasts always aroused her. I felt her tangle her fingers in my hair to clutch me to her, and I slid my hand down and rubbed her mound through her panties. She shifted her feet wider apart to give me better access. My fingers slipped possessively inside the elastic waistband and I could feel the damp heat of her excitement. She shuddered – it was like a delicious thrill of anticipation. So I stopped. I grazed my fingers lightly across the flared swollen lips of her pussy and then backed away; left her on edge. I smiled at her cruelly. Then I ordered her onto her hands and knees and told her to crawl under the desk.
“When she was settled, I sank into the chair and looked down between my knees at her upturned face. ‘Suck me,’ I growled.
“Claire unzipped my jeans and stroked my cock. I was hard. I felt the warmth of her fingers as she began to massage the length of me and I reached down for a handful of her hair. Her mouth fell open instinctively, as I guided her lips over my cock.
“I glanced quickly up at the clock on the wall then closed my eyes. Claire took me deep into her mouth and started to slowly suck me. She made wet little slurping sounds. She licked and nibbled the swollen head of me and then engulfed my full length so that I felt her lips tight at the base of my shaft. She was holding me against the back of her throat. I held her head in place until I felt her begin to struggle and then reluctantly removed my hands. She came up for air, gasping. Her eyes were watering. Her lips were puffy and swollen. She licked along the hard length of me and then wrapped her lips back around the engorged head. I felt her tongue flick and slide, and the sensations were exquisite.
“Then there was a knock at the door.”
Leticia looked up from her notebook in sudden alarm. “Are you serious?”
I smiled. “I am serious,” I said. “I arranged it.”
I stopped pacing and went back to the big desk. I leaned forward with my hands on the leather top.
“Claire gasped with panic. She started to squirm under the desk. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted it savagely. ‘Keep sucking my cock,’ I snapped. She tried to pull her head away. ‘Are you fucking crazy?’ she raged, and I had to force myself back between her lips and hold her there. ‘Suck my fucking cock!’ I snarled. ‘And don’t dare stop – no matter what happens.’
“The knock on the door sounded again, and then old Oliver the gardener slowly pushed the door open and stood in the doorway.
“‘Young Mr. Noble,’ he said. He was surprised to see me in my father’s office. He stood holding the door handle uncertainly.
“‘Hello Oliver,’ I said calmly. ‘Is something wrong?’ The old man shook his head, his expression puzzled. ‘Not that I know of,’ he said. ‘But I got a message from your father to meet him here in this very office at exactly 4:45 pm. I don’t know what it’s about.’
“I made a show of frowning thoughtfully. Under the desk I could feel Claire’s body trembling as she eased her mouth up and down my cock with agonizing slowness. ‘That’s strange, Oliver,’ I said. ‘I got a similar message. He asked me to meet him here at the exact same time’.
“Old Oliver shuffled his feet for a moment. He looked down at the carpet and then back at me. He shrugged. ‘Well, he must have got himself caught up in something. Can you tell him I was here and that I’ll come back later?’
“I smiled. ‘Of course,’ I said. He started to pull the door closed. I sensed Claire suddenly relax, the tension seep from her body. I heard her stifle a sigh of relief as her mouth slid from my cock and she took me lightly in the palm of her hand.
“‘Hey! Oliver,’ I said suddenly. ‘Why don’t you sit here with me and wait for him. I’m sure my father won’t be long. We could have a chat. I’d like to know how you’re going with the roses’.
“I heard Claire gasp and then suddenly freeze. She made a soft choking sound of sheer panic and I thrust my hips up at her. Her grip around my cock suddenly tightened in panic. Oliver came into the room, and sat in the chair you are sitting in right now. He’d never been inside my father’s office. His eyes swept around the room and stopped when he saw Claire’s bra on the floor.”
“Oh sweet god!” Leticia gulped. “You were insane to take that kind of risk.”
I shrugged casually. “It was thrilling,” I said. “That was what made it such a rush. The danger – the possibility that we might get caught.”
“Did you?”
I shook my head. “No. Oliver said nothing. His eyes flicked up to mine and I could see the question in his eyes. I braced myself. I felt Claire shuddering like a frightened kitten, almost too scared to breathe. Oliver and I sat in silence for a couple of minutes, and the only sound in the room was the old clock. Finally he slapped his hands onto his knees and pushed himself wearily to his feet. He made a mumbled excuse about the lawns and backed out of the room.
“As soon as
the door closed, I pushed Claire’s lips all the way down to the base of my shaft and pumped her mouth full of my come. It was one of the most spectacular orgasms I had ever experienced. It left me utterly exhausted. My heart was pounding, and I was dripping with sweat. Claire crawled out from under the desk and she was so weak and shaken, she couldn’t stand. Her lipstick was smudged across her face and her hair was a tangled mess. She stared down at me, her chest heaving like she had run a marathon. Her hands were shaking and her eyes were wide and reckless.
“For a moment Claire’s expression was ferocious, and her green eyes flashed. I held her gaze and deliberately challenged her – dared her. She was seething. Every muscle in her body was tensed. I cocked one eyebrow at her in a cynical mocking gesture. Her temper flared for another instant, and then her eyes slowly clouded over and her shoulders slumped. She dressed and left the office without a word.”
Leticia was watching me intently. Her expression was unfathomable. It could have been contempt. It might have been incredulity, or maybe something far more intriguing. Our eyes met, and then she glanced quickly away and took a deep breath. When she looked back at me again she met my gaze steadily, and I saw something move behind her eyes like a shadow.
“What happened next?” She asked in a whisper.
I stopped pacing. I took a deep breath then let out a heavy sigh of regret. “I never saw her again,” I said. “Claire packed her bags and moved out that same night. I didn’t realize what was happening until I saw the cab in the driveway and Claire standing there beside her suitcase. I watched her from the window. She saw me. Our eyes met for an instant – and then she turned her back, got in the cab, and it drove away into the night.”
“You didn’t try to stop her?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
“No.”
“And you never saw her again? Ever?”
I shook my head. “In hindsight, it was for the best. Claire sensed we were on some reckless collision course. We both knew it could only end in disaster. So she did what she needed to do to protect herself and her marriage. She did the right thing. The whole affair with Claire was a burning fuse. We were lucky it didn’t explode in our faces.”
Leticia sighed. She scribbled a note into her pad and then glanced at me with her head tilted at a curious angle.
“What stops a BDSM scene from getting out of hand?” she asked. “It seems to require a great deal of trust from the submissive.”
“It does,” I agreed, and then shook my head. The question deserved a more complete answer. “Write this down,” I said. “I think it’s important.”
Leticia flipped over to a new blank page and furrowed her brow. She nodded, pen poised.
“Young men make terrible Masters,” I said suddenly. “They’re too focused on themselves. They get into the lifestyle because of what they think they will get out of it, not because of what they can share. Does that make sense?”
“No.”
I took a deep breath and paced across the room. When I reached the door I stopped prowling and tried again.
“I’ve never met a man who I considered to be a good Master who wasn’t at least thirty years old. Any guys younger than that only seem interested in their own sexual pleasure. They get involved in the lifestyle because they think it’s a great way to get themselves off, without the burden of needing to feel any real responsibility towards their partner – their submissive. It’s all about the guy’s pleasure, and in those circumstances, the submissive is more likely to come away from a scene or a relationship feeling used and unsatisfied. Maybe even abused. I believe a true relationship between a Master and his submissive is as much about the emotional balance and interaction as it is about the sexual aspects. A submissive needs to have complete trust in her Master. She needs to know she can give her mind and body to him with absolute confidence that he will treat them as a gift, not a right. Women submissives are just as entitled to feel enriched from a BDSM relationship as their Master. It’s a fusion of energies – a meeting of minds – and bodies. The woman needs to know that her Master will put her safety ahead of his demands, and her welfare ahead of his needs. Young men don’t get that. They focus too much on the physical. They think BDSM is all about sex, so they make no effort to understand the submissive woman’s mind, and how important her trust and her physical and emotional needs are to his pleasure.”
I looked up hopefully. “Did that make sense?”
Leticia shook her head uncertainly. “I… I don’t know. Um… can I read it back over?”
I smiled. “Do that,” I said. “I need another drink.”
I sank back into the old leather chair and splashed whisky into the bottom of my glass. From the corner of my eye I watched Leticia with covert pleasure until suddenly she looked up from her notebook and swept a loose tendril of hair from her face with her fingers. She tucked the errant lock behind her ear and nodded.
“I think it makes sense. It’s a lot more ‘normal’ than I expected. I had the impression a BDSM lifestyle was all about extremes. You know… ropes and whips and leather…” her voice trailed off into silence.
“It can be,” I agreed. “And for some people it is exactly as you imagine.”
I sat forward and propped my elbows on the desktop. I studied her face carefully. “Leticia, there are no rules – apart from the safe, sane and consensual requirements I have already mentioned. If those conditions are met, then a BDSM relationship can be as extreme or as borderline-vanilla as the people involved want it to be.”
She sat back and was thoughtful for a moment. She seemed suddenly reluctant.
“You can ask me anything,” I prompted her gently.
She nodded. “I was just thinking back over what you said about BDSM relationships. It sounds all very nice, but it’s exactly opposite to what took place between you and Claire. The way you treated her once you found out about her husband was the exact opposite of what you now advocate.”
“You’re right,” I said honestly. “That’s because I was a young arrogant fool, obsessed with my own pleasure and my thirst for revenge. I was the poster-boy for dangerous selfish stupidity.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “I… I didn’t mean…”
“There is nothing to apologize for,” I said bluntly. “Jonah Noble at age nineteen was a self-obsessed bastard. Jonah Noble at age twenty-five was still learning to understand women, and certainly not a worthy Master. It’s only now – fifteen years after I first met Claire – that I consider myself a decent man.”
“You’re very hard on yourself,” Leticia made a face.
“I’m no saint, and I’m not trying to become one,” I confessed. “I’ve spent a lot of years learning about myself and learning about the women I have shared my life with. And it’s only now – after a lot of mistakes – that I’ve finally worked out who I am.”
There was a distant rumble of sound in the night and then a spray of rain against the window. A gust of wind rattled the glass in its casement. I got out of the chair and twitched the curtains aside. The night was black, seeming to match my own sullen mood.
I watched raindrops spatter and dribble down the windowpane and then turned suddenly. “I want to know your secret fantasy,” I said. “I want you to tell me the sexy things you lay awake at night thinking about.”
Leticia glanced up at me in dismayed alarm, and then lowered her eyes shyly. “I don’t have a fantasy.”
“You’re lying,” I said. “Every woman has a fantasy.”
Leticia stared at me for fully ten seconds, and then a transformation slowly came over her. She got to her feet, set the notebook carefully down on the chair, and walked to the office door. She turned back, the space of the floor separating us, and she hugged her own shoulders as if suddenly she was cold.
“I… I used to wonder what it would be like to be blindfolded by a man,” she said. She looked across to where I stood and her gaze was solemn and enigmatic.
�
�That’s interesting,” I said carefully. “Tell me more.”
“What is there to tell?”
“I want to know exactly what happens in your fantasy, and how it makes you feel.”
Leticia narrowed her eyes and chewed at her lip like she was making some kind of mental calculation. Then her eyelids fluttered and closed, and she stood with her back against the wall taking short shallow breaths as though preparing to face a firing squad.
“I’m standing in a candle-lit room,” she said, and her voice was so soft the words barely carried to me. “It’s a bedroom. I am wearing red lingerie. There are hundreds of candles on the floor and hung from wrought iron candelabras along the walls. The light has a golden magical glow, and as I’m staring into the flickering lights I feel my lover’s warm breath on my neck, and then his strong hands on my shoulders. My skin tingles. I feel a delicious shudder run down the length of my spine. My breath hitches in my throat until at last I gasp.
“Does he say anything to you, this mystery lover?”
Leticia shook her head. Her eyes were still closed. She licked her lips. “He just reaches around and presses a silk blindfold over my eyes. He is gentle. He ties the knot tightly at the back of my head and then I sense he is no longer there – the heat of his body suddenly fades so that I feel like I am completely alone.
“I stand, not daring to move. My senses come alive. I can hear the soft sound of his footfalls and the faint scent of his cologne. And then I feel the brush of his fingers across the silk bottoms of my panties. I flinch. His touch is like electricity. I take a tiny step, and then I feel something ice-cold on my arm. I move again – just another small step, but as I do, I feel his soft wet lips on my neck and I start to tremble.
“Suddenly I realize I am lost – I don’t know where the door is anymore. I reach out with my hands and my fingers press against his chest. His body feels like it is on fire. I feel the beat of his heart, and then he steps away, and the sense of longing in me is so strong that I groan aloud.
“An instant later I feel the teasing kiss of a feather on the tender flesh of my thigh. I feel myself clench, and then I turn and take one more step. Suddenly I feel the edge of the bed against the back of my knees and I begin to fall. He catches me, takes me in his arms, lays me down gently, and then covers my body with his own.”
