The Master's Exploits: Night One

by Jessi Bond

  “Well, I don’t usually make a habit of it,” she said. “You’re a very bad influence.”

  “Now you know,” I replied, with a vicious smile. “Would you like a safe word this time?”

  “Yes,” she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. Her nipples stiffened under the soft, woven fabric of her work shirt.

  “Pharmacy?” I suggested, undoing a few buttons and loosening my collar.

  She laughed, stepping out of her shoes. “All right,” she said. “I should be able to remember that.”

  I watched her, admiring the way her ill-fitting work clothes still managed to cling in all the right places. She make shapeless khakis look sinful.

  “Sorry I didn’t have time to change,” she said, softly. Self-conscious, I realized, under my gaze.

  “Stop,” I said, roughly. “Never apologize for the way you look.”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and she toyed with the hem of her shirt. “Understood,” she said. “I won’t, Sir.”

  “Turn around.” I gestured towards the center of the room. “Lean over the sofa.”

  Some of the nervousness crept back into her face. “Right...right here?”

  “Yes,” I said, softly. “Right here.”

  It was different. More personal. This was where I lived, and she felt that, acutely, as she walked over to the sofa. She’d given me her trust, and I was giving her something back in return. A piece of me. A small intimacy that not all of my submissives were granted.

  Madison took a deep breath, leaning forward and placing her hands on the back of the sofa. “Like this?”

  “That’s very good,” I said, walking towards her. My palm tingled in anticipation. She was presenting her ass to me without artifice, without hesitation, wrapped up in the same tan fabric that she wore in front of the public every day. A lot of people probably walked past her, probably admired her body, probably wished they could see her the way I was seeing her now.

  Reaching under her body, letting my fingers brush against her stomach, I slowly popped the button and began to drag the zipper down. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Her breathing quickened.

  “Do you know what I’m about to do, Madison?” I asked her, very quietly.

  She nodded tightly. “I think so,” she whispered, without opening her eyes.

  I pulled the pants down lower, chuckling a little when I saw the silky red panties underneath.

  “Were you thinking of me when you put these on?” I asked her.

  Again, she nodded before she had a chance to gather her words. “Yes,” she said.

  “Did it turn you on?”

  “Yes.”

  My cock felt heavy. I ran my fingers along the hem of the panties, tracing along her skin, watching the goose bumps appear. With one finger, I gently pulled back the panties to expose more of her ass cheek. “Did you touch yourself, Madison?”

  “No.”

  On impulse, I pulled back and smacked her where I’d tucked the panties back. She yelped, jolting forward slightly.

  “That’s for lying,” I said. “Did you touch yourself this morning?”

  Her fingers gripped the sofa so hard that her knuckles were beginning to go white. “Yes,” she muttered, finally.

  I smacked again, and this time, she only let out a soft noise. My dick was throbbing to life, watching her pale skin redden from the impact of my hand. “Why did you lie?”

  “I didn’t have permission,” she said, faintly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be angry.”

  “Lying is worse,” I said, just resting the palm of my hand on her ass. She flinched, then relaxed when she realized another hit wasn’t coming. Not yet. “Besides, I never told you that you weren’t allowed to come when we’re not together. Is that something you’d like?”

  She hesitated for a few moments. “I’m not sure.”

  I smiled, rubbing my thumb absently along the juncture of her thigh and her labia. She shuddered, her back curving to present herself to me better. Her pants slid all the way down past her knees to pool at her ankles.

  “We’ll work up to that,” I whispered, moving my hand to suddenly cup her growing heat through her panties. She gasped, arching her back even further. Just as quickly, I pulled away and spanked her once more, letting her feel the reverberations between her legs.

  “How many, do you think, for leaving me hanging?” I murmured, leaning over her, letting her feel my growing arousal against her thigh. “How many, Madison?”

  “Fifty,” she said.

  I just laughed. There was still so much stubbornness in her, and I loved it.

  “You wouldn’t even make it to thirty,” I said. “Before you were crying and begging me to stop.”

  “Try me,” she challenged, gripping the sofa harder.

  “Madison, no.” I rested my hand on the back of her neck, gentling her. “I would never push you past your limits like that. Not even if you asked for it.”

  She let out a small noise, either of assent or protest, it didn’t matter.

  “Just five more,” I said. “Because you’ve been so good. Count them off for me.”

  She nodded.

  “One.”

  Smack.

  “Two.”

  Smack.

  My cock jumped and strained, jealous, wanting to feel where she was molten and dripping for me. Every jolt of pain just made her want me more. As she counted off the last of them, every heartbeat felt like an eternity. As the last hit landed, I unzipped.

  Finally, we were through. I yanked her soaked panties aside, out of my way, and plunged inside her without prelude. She moaned like anything, head thrown back, arching and straining and pushing herself against me like her life depended on it. I lost myself then, the pretense of Dominant and submissive, Master and slave, lost in the frantic mating of two ordinary people in heat. She was wild, thrashing, begging me for more, harder, in filthy panting demands that I somehow heard over the ringing in my ears.

  When she came, she almost squeezed the life out of me, clamping down like a vise and screaming, oh God, yes, Sir. Yes.

  Just before I exploded, I remembered that she still didn’t know my name.

  ***

  Madison and I kept seeing each other for several months. She never asked who I really was, and I never gave her permission to call me anything other than Sir. She preferred it this way. With all the intimacy that we shared, she still wanted to keep some distance.

  As a Dom, I had to respect her boundaries. But as a man, it frustrated me beyond belief. I wanted the parts of her that she would never share with me. I wanted to know the story behind the sadness in her eyes.

  But if I asked, she’d never tell. Or worse - she’d feel obligated to. But that wasn’t a part of our game. It couldn’t be. Whoever Madison was when she was with me, it wasn’t the Madison that everyone else knew. That much was clear. I was her retreat, her vacation, her stress relief. I gave her permission to be someone she couldn’t be anywhere else.

  None of this was new to me. I’ve been used before. I never minded it.

  But damn it, I wanted to know who had made her so sad.

  At times it was tempting to dismiss her, to tell her that our time was over. I was getting too entangled. Too involved. The safest thing, for everyone, would be for me to walk away. I knew that, and I could tell that Madison was beginning to see it too.

  But we were having too much fun to end it yet. She was a constant challenge, always rising to the occasion, always pushing me to be more. More creative, more clever, more cruel. I spent nearly all my spare time thinking of new ways to delight and terrify her.

  How long could this last? How long could we be sustained by the pure chemistry of it, before I fell in too deep, or Madison finally found someone she could really love?

  As time went on, the answer became clearer and clearer.

  Not much longer.

  And that was when I knew.

  It was time for my most diabolical game yet.


  Time and time again, I’d found myself returning to the most memorable scenes in Madison’s favorite book. Most notable among them was a scene featuring a sadistic dinner party. The heroine was tied up amongst a group of men, and they were allowed to use her however they saw fit. It wasn’t an unusual fantasy, by any means, but it was a little outside of my usual fare.

  I spent a long time thinking about it, until I’d finally devised a plan. It took a lot of revisions, and a lot of doubts and hesitations, before I got it just right. Just as I’d nudged Madison’s boundaries, bit by bit, she was pushing mine. Forcing me to think in different ways, even to question my own desires.

  Her birthday was coming. It was the perfect opportunity, and the fact that she’d told me about it was a good sign. It meant she didn’t already have plans with someone else.

  “I’d like to have you over to celebrate,” I said. “To my place on the Cape. It’s beautiful there. You’ll love it. I promise.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Just dinner and a movie?” she teased. “A quiet night in?”

  The corner of my mouth twitched. “I might have something in mind,” I said. “A sort of...surprise party.”

  She pouted. “I hate surprises.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it.” I snatched the check away from her. We were in bookstore coffee shop, which had remained one of our favorite haunts, and she always made a move to pay. She knew I’d never let her, but it was a reflex nonetheless.

  Madison was laughing, softly, such a pure infectious joy that I wished I could capture and wrap up in a box with a bow. For you, every day, forever. Please never be sad again. But no matter how happy I could make her, it was always fleeting. I could give her what she wanted, but I could never give her what she truly needed.

  But I was going to keep trying, as long as she let me.

  The day before her birthday, I left a box on her doorstep when I knew she’d be at work. Inside was a sleek black dress, barely decent, the sort of thing that lingerie stores call “sensual evening-wear.” She’d draw stares at a restaurant or walking down the street, but it was enough to get from her doorstep to my car and its well-tinted windows.

  There was a note inside the box, too, instructing her to wear the dress and nothing else. It was probably unnecessary, but I felt compelled. As I wrote it, my fingers itched to sign my name. If she wanted to ignore it, she could. But after some deliberation, I decided that would be selfish - and selfishness doesn’t suit a Dom.

  I arrived at the appointed time, idling there for a while before her front door opened, slowly. I could feel her hesitation as she stood there. The sheer, slinky dress clung to her body perfectly, and I knew it would be a struggle not to touch her on the drive over. But the wait would be well worth it.

  As she climbed into the passenger seat, her cheeks were flushed, and I could clearly see her nipples standing at attention beneath the flimsy fabric. “You’re early,” she said.

  I smiled. “I thought you might have been waiting on the front porch. It’s such a nice day.”

  “I didn’t want to get arrested,” she said, coolly, smoothing the dress down over her thighs.

  “Nonsense,” I said. “You wouldn’t be arrested, the saleswoman assured me of that.”

  “Oh, and I guess she has a lot of experience with that sort of thing.” Madison glanced at me, amused, and slightly aroused. Her lips were slightly parted as she took me in, dressed to the nines in a perfectly-tailored suit that I saved for very special occasions.

  “Enjoy it while you can,” I said, pulling a little strip of black fabric out of my pocket.

  “Really?” She glanced at it, then back at me, plaintively. “I promise, I won’t tell anybody about your secret bat cave.”

  “Oh, I know you won’t,” I said. “This isn’t for my benefit. It’s for yours.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” she said, but she turned her head around anyway, letting me slip the blindfold on and tie it firmly.

  The trip was long, and mostly silent. I let the anticipation build, refusing to answer any of her questions. She could run her imagination around in circles for a year, and she’d never guess what I had in store for her.

  We made good time. When she felt the car slow down and heard the gravel crunching under the tires, she perked up, turning her head from side to side as if to gather as much information as she could. I smiled, just watching her for a moment.

  Very carefully, I led her out of the car, letting my hand rest on the small of her back to guide her forward.

  “There are steps coming,” I warned her. “Lift up your foot. No - a little higher. There you go.”

  I didn’t stop until we were inside, standing in the vast, marble-floored foyer. When I finally removed the blindfold, she blinked a few times before she could see.

  “So this is where you live when you’re not in the city,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

  I just smiled. “Come on,” I said. “I have to show you your present.”

  Taking her hand, I led her down the hallway, to a room that I’d had specially outfitted for the occasion. I could see her pulse fluttering nervously under her jaw, as I pushed gently on the massive wooden doors, and they swung open, just enough for her to see what was inside.

  Word for word, as much as I possibly could have, I’d recreated the room from the book. The room where the party was held. It was opulent and mildly sinister, with a raised dais in the center. Chains hung from the ceiling above it. Waiting for her.

  But that wasn’t what made Madison’s breath catch in her throat.

  In the far corner of the room, just as I’d instructed them, five men were standing. Talking quietly amongst themselves, sipping brandy, staring at the fire.

  She blanched, going pale as a ghost, but she didn’t back away. “I don’t...” she whispered, her fingers clutching the door frame. “I don’t understand...”

  “I think you do, Madison,” I said darkly, taking her arm and leading her through the doorway. “Don’t you recognize this? Don’t you remember?”

  “Yes, but...” Her eyes darted from the chains, to the men in the corner, and then back to me. “This is...I never...”

  Her pulse was fluttering by her throat, and she looked on the verge of running away. With deliberate slowness, I reached out and stroked her cheek. She shuddered, eyes closing in surrender.

  “Do you trust me, Madison?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, eyes still closed.

  “Then you know what to do.”

  She opened her eyes again, staring at the dais, biting her lip in apprehension. My own heartbeat was quickening as I watched her. She trusted me. The kind of trust that you rarely find, in this life.

  Eyes closed, trembling all over, she stepped up onto the dais.

  The men all kept to their corner, facing the wall, as I’d instructed them. They weren’t looking at her. Yet. But she was looking at them, her eyes fixed on their backs as she lifted her arms for me to shackle.

  “What are they going to do?” she whispered.

  I let a smile grow, slowly, but I didn’t let it reach my eyes.

  “Whatever I tell them to do.”

  She was trembling all over, pale as a ghost. Fear and trust warred in her eyes. She knew I would never push her past her limits. But there was just enough doubt in her mind - she wasn’t quite sure what I was capable of. And that made all the difference.

  And that, I realized, as I watched her stand there, arms suspended in midair, waiting - that was the reason why.

  That was why she didn’t want to know my name.

  If I became more than just a Dom, more than just a stranger, she would lose that sense of anticipation. That fear. That uncertainty. That was what she needed from me.

  Slowly, deliberately, I stepped up onto the dais behind her. She tensed, and then relaxed, feeling the heat of my body.

  “This has to go back on,” I whispered, dangling the blindfold in front of her. “Do you unde
rstand?”

  She nodded.

  Sliding the silky fabric over her eyes one more time, I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly so that she could feel it caressing the back of her neck. She shivered. As I shackled her wrists, I half-expected to hear it. The safe word we’d established months ago, that she had never used.

  I expected her to stop me. I wouldn’t have blamed her. The kind of trust she’d placed in me was something I couldn’t imagine feeling.

  But she kept her lips closed. The only noise she made was a slight whimper as I stepped away.

  “You’re beautiful,” I told her, softly. Seeing her on display like this - it woke up something something dark and primal inside of me, something that wanted to own and possess and control. But I never could. Not really.

  It was time to make her wait.

  For a long time, all Madison could hear was the quiet murmuring of voices, indistinct, meaningless. I watched her from the corner where I sat, watched her breathing grow more labored, watched her squirm.

  I watched for her lips to move in that one particular way, forming around the word.

  Pharmacy.

  I watched, and I waited.

  She was a captivating sight. With her arms stretched above her head, her breasts were perfectly displayed under the sheer fabric, stiff nipples doing their best to poke through. The strain of her pose was starting to wear on her, but she stayed strong.

  When the cigars had burned down to the ends, I finally turned to one of the men and gave him a nod.

  He knew what it meant.

  Drawing closer to Madison, I watched her breath quicken, sensing that something in the room was changing. Shifting. She bit her lower lip, arms straining, feet slipping in her high-heeled shoes with the effort of holding herself up.

  With her eyes covered, all she felt were the hands. Fingers. Eager lips traveling down the side of her neck, the press of a firm, muscular leg. A kiss. Many kisses. If she had expected to be handled roughly, she was surprised - until fingers clasped hard in her hair and jerked her head back, exposing her throat like prey. She moaned and whimpered, a dark wet spot appearing on her dress where it clung between her legs.

  Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.

  “Who...” She stopped, making way for a sharp intake of breath as a hand brushed against her over-sensitized nipple. “Who are you?”