The Brat and the Master - a BDSM Erotic Novel

by Aishling Morgan

  Her voice broke to a scream of shock as Adam ducked down to catch her around her waist, lifting her across his shoulder. She began to kick him and thump her fists on his back as he carried her towards a cluster of rocks, but there was no real fight in her. He put a hand to her upturned bottom, stroking and squeezing her cheeks through the thin white cotton, at which she stopped struggling but began to whimper, then to talk, choking out her words.

  ‘You’re going to put me over your knee, aren’t you? Then you’re going to spank me on my panties for a little bit before you pull them down … and then you’re going to spank me on my bare bottom … and then you’re going to fuck me.’

  She seemed to be close to tears, and her body was shaking violently. As Adam reached the rocks he paused, feeling guilty and confused once again. Lifting Jasmine gently from his shoulder, he cradled her in his arms, pressing his mouth to hers in a tentative kiss. Her response was an explosion of passion, crushing her lips against his with her tongue burrowing deep, while her hand went straight to his crotch. She gave a faint whimper as her fingers squeezed on the breadth of his erection, and with that the last of Adam’s doubt gave way. He pulled back from the kiss, keeping a firm hold on her as he sat down on a convenient rock.

  ‘OK, so you like to be spanked,’ he told her. ‘Let’s have you over my knee, the same way The Gardener had you. He may be a dirty old bastard, but he seemed to know what he was doing.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jasmine answered, and he drew her down across his lap.

  Her shaking grew more violent still, while she was making little choking sobs deep in her throat and seemed unable to speak for emotion as he positioned her for spanking. Yet her bottom was lifted meekly, forming a perfect ball of girlish flesh beneath the stretched white cotton of her panties, a target Adam found irresistible. Taking her firmly around the waist, he gave her an experimental swat across her seat, then another, and he began to spank her.

  ‘Is this what you want?’ he demanded. ‘Is this what you need, Jasmine, you little pervert? Well, if that’s the way you like it, fair enough. It’s what you deserve, for teasing me, for being such a flirt, for … for letting your knickers down for a dirty old man.’

  As he spoke he continued to spank, quite hard, making her bottom jiggle and quiver in her panties as he took out his anger and frustration on her. She began to squirm and kick her feet, hard enough to lose one shoe, with her sobs and whimpers giving way to cries of shock and pain, every one of which gave Adam a sharp jolt of arousal, but also of guilt. At last his uncertainty got the better of him and he slowed down, at which Jasmine spoke again.

  ‘Now my panties. Take down my panties.’

  Her voice was breathless and eager, once more allowing him to overcome his ill feelings, while she’d deliberately lifted her hips in order to make it easier for him to get her knickers down. He took hold, enjoying the moment for all his misgivings, and slowly began to pull. Jasmine gave a low moan as her bottom was exposed, with her tight little cheeks now pinker than ever, in sharp contrast to the creamy white skin of her legs and back. Her anus too was a perfect star of near-white flesh, although her sweetly pouted cunt lips showed red with the blood of her excitement.

  ‘There we are,’ he told her, ‘all bare and beautiful. And doesn’t it feel better with me instead of that old bastard down at the house?’

  Jasmine responded with another low, purring sound and pushed her hips higher still, to make the display of her bottom even ruder than before as she spoke.

  ‘Spank me, and tell me off. I like it when I get told off.’

  ‘I never imagined you were such a bad girl,’ Adam answered as he once more began to spank her, now gently. ‘You look so innocent.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed, ‘but I’m not. I’m a dirty little brat who needs her panties pulling down and her bottom spanked daily. Harder than that.’

  ‘You’re a bossy little madam, as well,’ he told her, and he began to smack harder, making her cheeks bounce and spread to the slaps. ‘A naughty, bossy little madam who needs her bottom spanked. A filthy bitch who let her knickers down for a dirty old man. A nasty little brat who teases men until they can’t help but strip her and smack her and …’

  He trailed off, his mouth suddenly dry. She’d come up on her toes, with her feet braced well apart, to put her cunt on open show. Her lips were puffy and sheened with moisture, her vagina open and wet, a display Adam had never before seen in the flesh, making him desperate to pull out his cock and push it up inside her, for all that she looked too tight to take him. Still he spanked, harder and harder, her body now jerking to the smacks, until she began to gasp in her breaths and toss her head in pained reaction, making her long blonde hair shimmer in the sunlight.

  ‘More,’ she panted. ‘Tell me off … tell me what a bad girl I am … tell me how I let my knickers down for a dirty old man.’

  ‘You like that, don’t you?’ Adam demanded, in genuine disapproval. ‘You really are something else, Jasmine, you dirty little bitch. I bet you did it on purpose, didn’t you? I bet you knew full well you’d end up over his knee with your panties pulled down, didn’t you? You little tease … you little brat … you dirty, filthy little whore! You didn’t just let your knickers down for a dirty old man, did you? You teased him into taking your knickers down himself, for a spanking, a spanking you got off on, you dirty brat! Well, now it’s my turn, and I know just what to do with you.’

  All his ill feelings were gone, pushed away at her unashamed arousal, and he began to touch her, stroking and squeezing her lovely cheeks in between volleys of smacks, pulling them open to tickle her pucker with the tip of his finger, rubbing at her cunt to make her cry out in ecstasy. At that she collapsed back down over his lap, her legs now kicked as wide as her pulled-down knickers would allow, to show herself off, plainly ready for penetration, while she began to moan and snatch at her tiny breasts.

  ‘You’re ready, aren’t you?’ he asked, his voice thick with need. ‘You’re ready for fucking, and it’s going to be your first time, isn’t it? I bet it is.’

  Jasmine’s answer was to push her bottom up to his hand, giving a weak sob as she did so. Adam took a fresh grip on her waist, determined to give her what she so obviously needed and more before he fucked her. Applying his hand to her behind once again, he began to spank her, now laying on slaps as hard as he could. It set her little red cheeks bouncing, her long, pale legs kicking furiously, her hair tossing from side to side, her body squirming on his lap. A moment more and she’d burst into tears, blubbering out her feelings across his knee in a full-blown tantrum, but for Adam there was now no going back.

  His cock was too stiff, his need too strong and urgent to be denied. One hard jerk and Jasmine was completely stripped of her panties, leaving her stark naked save for one small, white shoe. Her legs immediately came wider still, even as she tumbled off his lap and onto the rough turf. There she lay, her huge, pale eyes stained with tears as they locked on his, her chest rising and falling to her deep, heavy breathing, her thighs splayed wide in open invitation.

  Adam climbed on top and her arms came around him, clinging as if to save herself from drowning as she bit and kissed at his face. He pushed one hand down to his crotch, struggling to free his erection, which already felt fit to burst. She moaned as his knuckles brushed her cunt, then again as he pressed the head of it to her hole, her thighs now as high and as wide as they could go, her fingers clawed into his back and her mouth wide against his. Adam pushed, felt his cock enter her, stop at a sudden, painful constriction, then sink deep, all the way to his balls as her hymen tore and her mouth broke from his in a scream of anguish for her lost virginity.

  Chapter One

  The rose was a perfect, lustrous black, without so much as a hint of colour, even in the bright sunlight outside the court. Adam reached out to stroke one of the full, velvet petals, then moved his fingers lower, to snap the stem. He held up the rose to Elaine.

  ‘For you, a token of appreciation.
’

  She smiled, accepting his gift, and took a moment to admire it before she replied.

  ‘Thank you, Dr Tyler. It’s very beautiful.’

  ‘Please call me Adam,’ he replied. ‘After all, I’m no longer your client.’

  ‘That is true … Adam,’ she said, hesitating before she spoke his name. ‘I trust you are pleased with the outcome?’

  ‘I should be,’ he answered. ‘I should be dancing for joy or making tracks for the nearest champagne bar, but the truth is, I feel empty. All those years’ work – even more if you count university – and then …’

  He trailed off with a shrug. Elaine raised one immaculate eyebrow.

  ‘Almost a million pounds a year, then? That’s a good wage.’

  ‘Considerably less once the taxman’s had his bite, but yes, I suppose I should be pleased, especially as I’d have been broke if Haardt-Biomass hadn’t stepped in, and maybe even then if it wasn’t for your negotiating skills.’

  ‘It was a gamble, true, but I was confident we’d win.’

  They began to walk around the court buildings, towards the car park, where the representatives of Haardt-Biomass were already getting into two sleek black limousines. One held the second of the two black roses Adam had brought to the hearing, another the case of papers that represented those ten years of hard work. As the last of the car doors slammed, his sense of loss increased sharply, bringing a strong need for company as he continued to talk.

  ‘I didn’t really do it for the money anyway. At first … well, I suppose it was a grudge, really. I always used to go down to visit my grandparents every summer, in Devon. They lived right on the edge of Dartmoor, the last house in the village, at the top of a little sheltered valley. Next door was a much grander house, called Foxdens, with the most beautiful garden you ever saw.

  ‘An old man lived there, Mr Rudge, although I used to know him as The Gardener. He was the most miserable, cantankerous old bastard you could ever hope not to meet, but when it came to plants, he was a genius. There was a big conservatory at one side of the house, where he used to grow dark roses – not black, of course, but a wonderful rich purple. That’s where my first plant came from. I stole it.’

  Elaine gave him a quizzical look, but she was smiling.

  ‘I suppose I wanted to get back at him,’ Adam continued, ‘for … for all sorts of reasons. I knew he was trying to breed a black rose, and I also knew it was impossible, without a little genetic manipulation. The effort I put into learning about that went a long way to getting me into Oxford, where they prize interest above any number of A-stars. It wasn’t until I was halfway through my DPhil that I realised I’d hit on something new, never mind saleable. I did go back to Foxdens, though, when I’d finally got the translocation technique perfected. My idea was to present The Gardener with a single cut rose, absolutely black, but without telling him it was genetically modified. He’d have been furious.’

  ‘The perfect revenge.’

  ‘I’m glad you see it that way. I’m sure most people would think it childishly obsessive, but that’s me.’

  ‘If you weren’t obsessive you wouldn’t be a multi-millionaire now.’

  ‘That’s very true, but I never did get my revenge. I went down to Devon but old man Rudge had been dead for years.’

  Elaine laughed, to Adam’s surprise – not only for her amusement at the dark irony of the situation, but because over all the time he’d been working with her, she’d been cool and formal. They reached her car and she extended her hand for the decorous shake she always used in greeting and parting. Adam responded in kind, with a regretful smile for the thought that he was unlikely to see her again.

  He stepped back, allowing himself to make a last appraisal of her looks as she turned away. She was a little over average height for a woman, and slender, with long legs invariably encased in expensive, seamed stockings, and tiny feet in smart, black court shoes. As always, she was in a skirt suit, dark charcoal grey in this case, with a thin red stripe, over a white blouse decorated with a tie of black ribbon. Her hair was up in a tight bun constrained by pins, which added to the deliberate severity of her look, as did her metal-framed glasses. There was no question that she was attractive, although seemingly untouchable, but their relationship had always been strictly professional. At a pang of regret, Adam spoke again.

  ‘Actually, Miss McNeil … Elaine, I don’t suppose you’d care to join me for a celebratory drink?’

  She turned, her subtly painted mouth once more turned up into a faint smile, her voice soft as she replied.

  ‘Thank you. You’re very kind, Adam, but you and I … no. I very much doubt we have the right things in common.’

  Adam gave a bashful shrug, knowing it was pointless to deny having been interested. Elaine made to get into her car, only to pause and dip into the glove compartment. Taking out a card, she handed it to Adam.

  ‘Still, given your sense of humour, and perhaps rather more, this might amuse you. It’ll certainly open your eyes a bit, after all those years you’ve spent fiddling around in a lab.’

  She winked, again to his surprise, and lowered herself into her car. Adam stepped back, waiting until she had pulled out from the parking space and driven away before he looked at the card. He had no idea what to expect, as she had clearly turned him down, but he was still puzzled to find the card marked with a single line of text, “Juliette’s Masque”, in black, with a thin, ragged red line running diagonally across it, as if the letters had bled when scratched.

  Adam looked down from the balcony onto the crowd below, uncomfortable and yet fascinated. A search on the internet had revealed that Juliette’s Masque was a monthly club held in what had once been the turbine hall of a Victorian power station. It was clearly intended for people with a love of alternative culture, especially those who found themselves unable to express their tastes in public life. To discover that the cool, reserved Elaine McNeil had anything whatsoever to do with such a place had fascinated him, but no more so than the pictures and information on the club website. There was a strong emphasis on discretion, and masks were an obligatory part of a strict dress code, but it was plain that many of the people who attended also indulged in the curious and fascinating erotic pleasures which had haunted him ever since his encounter with the beautiful, fey Jasmine Brown. There had been no option but to attend.

  Preparing himself had been a curious experience. After years of surviving on loans and grants he found it hard to spend money freely, while the culture he had chosen to investigate was entirely alien, save to his most carefully hidden desires. The thought of women who freely expressed the counterpoint to his own sexuality set a fire to his blood, and yet it was hard to fight down feelings of disapproval of their behaviour, and of his own. For years his memories of Jasmine had swung between sweet regret for what they’d shared on their single, brief encounter and deep-cut guilt for what he’d done to a girl who’d seemed barely rational.

  Yet there had been no doubting her intelligence, nor Elaine’s, which had made it easier as he studied the culture online and decided how he intended to present himself. Much of it was plainly not for him at all, but other aspects appealed. The college wine society had been one of his few indulgences at Oxford, and he had always taken a quiet pride in perfectly correct dress for the annual dinners. A little imagination, with details borrowed from across three centuries of English culture, and he had managed to transform classic white tie into something suitable for a man attending Juliette’s Masque.

  Black was the dominant colour and in his case entirely appropriate, with shoes, spats, frock suit, cravat, hat, gloves and cane all in the same lustrous shade as the perfect rose he had placed in his buttonhole. Only his waistcoat showed colour, a purple sheen as deep and bright as a starling’s wing and lightly threaded with gold to match the pommel of his cane. A black domino completed the ensemble.

  Watching from the balcony, he felt somewhat overdressed. Very few of his fellow guests had go
ne to a fraction of the effort he had, while the majority of men seemed intent on emphasising their low status rather than any physical advantages they had. Among the remainder most favoured leather, with every style on show from floor-length longcoats to bodysuits prickly with metal studs. Many of these had an enviable confidence, which he did his best to emulate as he sipped his drink and watched the throng.

  If the men seemed to fall into two fairly distinct categories, the women were more varied by far, and more interesting. Some sported tight-fitting body armour of leather and studs, or fantastically elaborate dresses that left not an inch of flesh on show, while rather more were dressed in fantastic creations of rubber, some pure black, others as colourful as birds. Uniforms were also popular, some military, but more often intriguingly eroticised, with several supposed schoolgirls flashing their panties beneath tiny pleated skirts and a handful of highly abbreviated nurse’s outfits. Other girls were near naked, one in nothing but an eggshell blue Venetian mask and a confection of peacock feathers, another in just high, scarlet heels, a thong to match and a tiny black domino, her heavy breasts jiggling naked as she danced for the amusement of her boyfriend.

  Adam felt a touch of jealousy as he watched, but reflected that the leather-clad young man with the girl would probably have felt the same for his money, and while it could not be easy to find a girlfriend willing to dance naked in public, the effort could hardly compare with years of research, never mind the rewards. At first, he had been content just to watch, but now he began to wonder if he might not be able to find himself a companion. Yet he estimated there were almost twice as many men as women, and the exotic, carefree girls who attracted his attention were in a still smaller minority and all seemed to be with companions.

  He put the idea aside and instead began to wonder if Elaine was present. She evidently knew the club, but with everybody masked it would be difficult to recognise her, especially if, as he suspected, she was among those women fully covered. Her polite rejection of his advances suggested as much, when she clearly had a fair idea of his character, and it was always possible that she was a lesbian. Certainly she had no boyfriend, or had at least never mentioned one, and Adam found himself wondering if the reason they were incompatible might be that they shared the same taste in partners.