Master Red

by Natalie Dae

I closed my eyes, let them do whatever they would, and relaxed, the pleasure having its wicked way with no resistance from me. I bucked, hips jerking spasmodically, free breast bouncing. The Dom switched his attention to my other nipple, treating it to the same, then bent his head to the one he’d abandoned.

  He bit.

  With two of my most sensitive parts being nuzzled, the pleasure and pain coming from separate locations at the same time threw me for a loop. I sagged, Master Red putting more pressure on my stomach to hold me up. I stared down at him as he stared up at me, and he spoke, loud and clear with his eyes.

  He loved me. Was proud of me. I’d gone to the next level without any trouble. We’d become the show, no longer just voyeurs. I’d trusted him—and those watching—and as I shifted my gaze from him to them, I felt a sense of belonging. Of acceptance. I had watched these people give their playtime freely, had taken a part of their lives and stored it in my head. Their gift had now been returned, and as my orgasm waned, as the men biting me eased off on my nipple and clit, I let out a long, low moan.

  The Dom stepped away with a nod, and the semi-circle dispersed. Master Red rose, taking me in his arms while I rested my cheek on his chest and closed my eyes. My whole body felt boneless, those bones replaced with swarms of undulating calm, making me floaty and lightheaded.

  “She said you were there,” Master red whispered, stroking my hair. “But you weren’t.”

  “No, Sir. Nearly, though.”

  “You look different when you’re in subspace. You knew exactly what was going on. I’m so proud of you.”

  “I know, Sir. But I’m… I need to sit down.”

  He let me go, lowered my dress to cover my cunt then lifted the top so my breasts were no longer on show. He paused, staring down at my chest, and I had the awful feeling he was about to rebuke me. I steeled myself for it, prepared to be told there was a punishment waiting in my future.

  Instead, he cupped my face, looked into my eyes, and I nodded to let him know I was okay. He guided me to an empty sofa and sat, tugging me down so I was on his lap. I snuggled against him, utterly exhausted of body but my mind pin-sharp and alert. Again he stroked my hair, and we sat without talking, me taking in our surroundings. I found, when my gaze landed on people I’d seen in the semicircle, that I wasn’t embarrassed. I was nothing to them, not really, just someone who had given them quite a show.

  I spotted the Dom, pleased that he paid me no attention, that he was now sucking some other woman’s tit as she hung from the cross the men had been using. Perhaps he didn’t have his own sub tonight, or maybe he just enjoyed sampling other people’s. I decided it didn’t matter. He’d had no interest in me other than joining our scene, and it could most definitely stay that way.

  Was I supposed to feel dirty? Used? A slut?

  I didn’t.

  “He’s what I think of as a surfer,” Master Red said.

  I didn’t have to ask who. I had just about been ready to contemplate whether letting another man touch me would affect our relationship. To probe my thoughts deeper and wonder how it had made my Master feel. He’d been the one to give the green light, but still, had he felt jealous once that man had put his hands, his mouth on me? Or was Master Red secure enough to know that it was something that just happened in voyeur rooms and didn’t have any bearing on us as a couple? I needed to ask, but as we were now, still in a scene setting, I didn’t want to drop the Master/sub role. Then again, I’d deviated from it already, getting my breasts out like that.

  “He’s in between subs,” he went on. “Either looking for a new one or enjoying time without. He was watching us from the moment I came in. Did you not notice?”

  “No, Sir.” And I hadn’t.

  “There was no harm in inviting him. He isn’t a threat. And look at him now, busy with someone else’s sub. How do you feel about me giving you permission to choose someone else?”

  “I’m not really sure, Sir. I don’t feel used or a tart, if that’s what you mean. I’m more bothered about how you feel. Whether it’s made you look at me in a different way.”

  “No,” he said, twirling a lock of my hair around his finger. “You’re mine. You haven’t said you wish it were otherwise. And until you do, you’ll remain mine. Others won’t get the sides of you that I do. They won’t know what goes on in your head. Only me.”

  I was relieved he felt that way, knew that it had been nothing but a means to get gratification. Had Master Red not been so busy between my legs, he would have been the one to stimulate my nipples.

  “That’s good, Sir. So long as you’re all right.”

  “Oh, I am, although I do need tending to at some point this evening.”

  I smiled, tried to wiggle right into him. “I can do that, Sir.”

  “I know you can. But not yet. Let’s just sit a moment.”

  I closed my eyes, content, and knew if I wasn’t careful I’d drift off to sleep to the muted sounds of the fucking symphony. Odd how we could sit like this, among several people having sex and it didn’t affect me now I’d come. Master Red, on the other hand, was ready for some attention. His hard cock was pressed against my outer thigh, and I wondered what kind of attention he fancied. In here or upstairs? Door closed or ajar?

  * * * *

  “Close it,” he says. “I don’t want anyone thinking they can join us. Not on our first night. Go over there to the bed. Get comfortable.”

  I was expecting him to say something else, order me into a position so he could get down to business and whip my arse red raw. Instead, he joins me on the bed, and we rest on our sides facing one another.

  “I want to talk. You may speak without needing my permission. So, what do you do for a living?” he asks.

  “I’m a beauty consultant.”

  “Ah, that would explain your wonderful hair and makeup.” He reaches up to stroke one of the lacquered curls. “I can see myself ruining this. You’ll arrive with it immaculate and leave with a bird’s nest.”

  I smile. Laugh a little. Look into his blue eyes. “What do you do, Sir?”

  “I’m a head teacher at an adult college.”

  I widen my eyes at that. “Bloody hell, Sir, aren’t you worried one of your students might turn up here?”

  He gives a one-shoulder shrug. “If they do then they’ll already know about the lifestyle, know why I’m here and won’t think of me as a freak or whatever the hell it is people think about the likes of ‘us’. It’s doubtful, though. My class is elderly women on a refresher needlework course.” He laughs. “I’m joking.”

  “You look great when you laugh, Sir.”

  “And that’s because of you, Charlotte. You make me feel happy.”

  * * * *

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go upstairs, see if there’s a room available.”

  I clambered off his lap, my body heavy, although I didn’t feel as lethargic as I perhaps should. It seemed like when we’d been on the sofa the volume in the room had been turned down to just a low murmur. Now it came back, a great blast of it, and I couldn’t wait to get away. I took the hand he offered and followed him from the room, keeping my gaze down now that we were entering a different part of the building. Up the stairs we went, past several doors, some closed, some ajar, until we found one that was fully open.

  I stepped inside and rubbed my arms. It was chilly, as though the last people had had the window thrown wide. I glanced across to see that yes, the window was open. Sounds from outside filtered in, the snap of a crop, the grunt from the recipient as it had made contact. Master Red cocked his head and looked at me, and I closed the door then went with him to peer out.

  Someone was putting on a show, several others sitting in lawn chairs or on wooden benches. The ones performing were on the patio, a woman on her knees, her Master whipping her backside with a length of leather so thick it covered most of her arse when it landed.

  “Well, pet,” Master Red said. “I see this has woken you up a bit.”

 
; It had, as well as the stiff breeze soughing in. “Yes, Sir. It’s…different to watch from above.”

  “It is. And I imagine that it’s different to fuck while we watch from above, don’t you think?”

  “It will be, Sir.”

  “Then get your dress off and we’ll fuck and observe.”

  Chapter Four

  I stood at the window naked except for my shoes, my hands flat on the sill, my bottom jutting out. Master Red was behind me, his cock wedged into the crack of my arse, covered in the lube he’d slathered on it. He’d taken his clothes off, and the heat coming off him warmed my back, curled over me just like he was, opposite to how the cool air coming in treated my front.

  “She doesn’t have any padding under her knees,” he said. “Could be a bit sore after a while.”

  I stared at the woman on the patio. She was lit from real-flame torches that surrounded the paving slabs, flickers of it fighting off the shadows of the night. Every so often the wind played up, threatening to put the flames out and plunge everyone into darkness save for the light from the moon. Her skin must have been hardened, used to being on a rough floor, or she didn’t mind the added pain the concrete must be giving her. Perhaps she enjoyed it.

  “He’s got a strong smack on him,” he said, easing his cock up and down. “I’m surprised she hasn’t safe-worded by now. Her arse must be a very deep shade of red.”

  “I should think it is, Sir, but I can’t see too well from here—not the color of her skin anyway. That leather strap is really quite wide. Maybe she likes it that way. Maybe she’s been in the lifestyle a long time.”

  “There is that. He’s an expert, I can see that much.”

  And her Master was. He held the handle in a steely grip. No chance of him dropping it, or of loosening his hold or hitting her in the wrong way, in the wrong place. His swing was graceful yet firm, and he ensured the strip landed in exactly the same place every time. How on earth did he do that? And how was she bearing such concentrated pain like that?

  Perhaps she’s gone numb. She might not even feel each slap now, just the impact it has on her cunt. She might even be in subspace.

  “How does it make you feel, being spanked, Charlotte?”

  “It’s hard to describe, Sir.”

  He slapped the top of my thigh—hard. “Try.”

  I winced at the flash of pain followed by searing heat. “It’s painful, but because the slap jolts my cunt lips, Sir, it brings on pleasure.”

  “Ah, so if I hit you like this”—he smacked me ten times in quick succession—“it gives a kind of pulse, much like if I rubbed your clit.”

  I let out a long breath through pursed lips. Scrunched my eyes shut as the warmth from his slaps radiated deep into my skin. My thigh was on fire, but the movement had woken up my extremely sensitive clit and the reverberations from his strikes were still throbbing there. “Yes, Sir. The way he’s—oh, God, my cunt feels so good—continually smacking her, she’ll come soon.”

  He rubbed his cock up and down my crack again, the glide smooth. His tip was hot, as though he were ready to come any second. How he’d held off all evening was a mystery to me. He had more self-control than I did, but then that was something we were working on, me holding off, him refusing to let me come sometimes.

  “This,” he said, gliding faster, pushing his cock harder inside the crack, “feels fucking nice. And this”—he slapped my thigh—“also feels nice.”

  “More than nice, Sir,” I said, sticking my arse out even more, trying to make it so his cock slipped into my cunt as he slid it downwards.

  “You”—he slapped—“are a crafty”—he slapped again—“little sub. Speak to me.”

  “I want you,” I said, the words breathy, light. “I need you inside me, Sir.”

  “I know you do. And normally I’d make you wait, but tonight has been”—whack—“more intense than usual, and I”—whack—“need a fuck.”

  My cunt got wetter at that. My stomach rolled with excitement, and my nipples perked into even harder nubs. This man, this glorious man rubbing off in my arse crack, made me feel so horny.

  “And while he’s belting her, I’m going to smack you.”

  He dragged his dick down then plunged it into me. I bit my lower lip and cried out at the pleasure from his cock filling me so completely. He pulled out then surged back in, stilling for a moment before going at it with speed. Every time he shoved inside he slapped my thigh. The sound of his smacks rang out while the ones administered to the woman outside were dulled thuds. My skin at the point of contact itched where it was getting hotter, and it felt like a million and one prickles were being pressed there, thistles or rose thorns digging in.

  He reached up and took hold of my nipple, squeezing, pinching and twisting. I wanted to close my eyes to drown in the experience, but the scene playing out on the patio meant I kept them open. We’d come here tonight to watch, and even though I’d thought being up here meant we wouldn’t, now that we had a free show, plus the privacy to do our own thing, I was going to enjoy it. I’d never known of anyone doing a scene outside here before. I pushed my head out a bit more and scanned the windows left then right. Someone else was watching from a window, his head and torso quite far out, and from the way his body shuddered I knew he was wanking.

  Those watching at ground level indulged in their own form of play, fondling cocks or sucking at cunts. Nipples were given the same treatment as mine were getting. One woman was splayed on her back on the patio slabs, her Master pressing his booted foot to her slit and applying pressure. She groaned, writhed, lifting her arse to shove her pussy into his foot. I knew how she felt, wanting that extra friction. She gyrated, a figure of eight, and I was turned on.

  I took one hand off the sill and patted Master Red’s thigh.

  He continued to smack mine as he fucked. “Speak.”

  “That woman, Sir,” I said, out of breath. “She’s fucking that boot.”

  “And loving it.”

  A man pulled his cock out and stood in front of one of the torch poles. He wanked off in front of it. He looked up, saw me watching, and wanked harder, faster.

  “He’s seen you,” Master Red said. “And he likes knowing you’re being fucked while you’re staring at him. And I like knowing you’re mine and that he can look but not touch.”

  My thigh was stinging, approaching the point where the heat and pain would fail to hurt. Master Red’s cock slid in and out easily. He wrenched my nipple to one side, and I groaned, grabbing the sill again so I had more purchase. Scrunching my toes, I pushed back every time he pushed in, our bodies colliding with a satisfying whack sound that rivalled those he gave to my thigh.

  The man wanking in front of the pole yelled out, closed his eyes and shuddered. I couldn’t see any cum, but I’d guess he was offloading. I switched my attention back to the woman being leathered. She was shoving a vibrator in and out of her cunt.

  “That’s it, fuck yourself,” her Master said.

  “Do the same,” Master Red whispered to me. “Except fuck yourself with your fingers.”

  I let go of the sill with one hand again then slid two fingers into my hole in front of his cock. The extra stretch had me moaning, sucking air through clenched teeth, and he hissed out an elongated “yes”. He smacked and fucked and tweaked, each thrust shunting me closer to the wall. I leaned my elbow on the sill, poking my head out, glad of the cool breeze on my face.

  The woman with the vibrator wailed, coming hard. Her Master followed soon after, wanking, coming on her back. Spunk dribbled down to her arse, and I imagined the sting of it on her red raw skin was either sublime or wicked. The watchers writhed on the outskirts, appearing like ethereal ghosts, half in shadow. The flames gave everything a somewhat witchy feel, as though we’d gone back in time to where rituals were played out and group sex like this was considered an honor to be a part of. There was so much to take in that I didn’t know where to look next. I glanced about, waiting for something to pa
rticularly grab my attention. The man who had been by the pole was now gone, and it seemed the only people left to come were watchers, me and Master Red, as the man at the other window had also gone.

  I wonder if he was partners with the man at the pole? The thought that he’d been sent down into the garden to wank off while his Master watched…

  “Come, pet,” Master Red whispered.

  I didn’t need telling twice. I let my orgasm free. It rippled over me. Sweat broke out at my temples despite the breeze. Master Red pumped harder, slapped harder. I kept the fingers in my cunt still, loving the feel of his silky cock sliding against them. Then I pushed them in as far as I could get them and curled the top half of my fingers over, pressing onto my G-spot. He shuddered, his dick thickened and throbbed, then he came, his spunk hot on my fingers. He stopped slapping and gripping my nipple to hold my hips so he could thrust into me harder. He grunted, moaned, then stilled as more cum flooded out of him. His cock pulsed, and he shuddered again.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” he said.

  “Thank you, Sir,” I panted.

  I withdrew my fingers as he pulled out, then I turned and moved into his waiting arms. His eyes asked a silent question and I gave him a nod as an answer. Raised my hand to rest my wet fingers on his lips. He sucked them inside, keeping his gaze fixed on me. My cunt clenched at what he was doing and, at his second nod, I took my fingers out then put them in my mouth.

  The taste of him was divine.

  “Kiss me,” he said.

  I lowered my hand and closed my eyes, waiting for that amazing feeling he always gave me as his lips touched mine. Suddenly we were alone in Marshall Cottage, no one else existed. His sweeping tongue made everything disappear. He tunneled his hands into my hair, ruining the style—and I didn’t give a damn. The cold air bathed my back, sauntered between my legs and chilled the wetness there. I pressed myself against him, hands on his back, drawing him as close as I could get him. My heart fluttered at our nearness, at how every time I was with him I became myself—my true self.