by Jason Luke
On one level, Leticia was deeply aroused by watching me train and have sex with Cameron. On another, more significant level, Leticia had wanted to participate.
It was early afternoon. I went out through the glass kitchen doors and found both Cameron and Leticia lazing by the pool. They were lying on their backs in recliner chairs, sharing the kind of companionable silence that didn’t need conversation. The sun was warm, the sky blue and cloudless. Both women were wearing bikinis, their bodies glistening with perspiration and lotion. Leticia had a straw sunhat over her face, Cameron had an arm flung across her eyes. I took an indulgent moment to compare their bodies once more – they were remarkably similar in shape and figure. Cameron’s breasts were a little larger, Leticia’s legs a little longer, a little more toned. I stood so that my shape cast a shadow across Leticia’s body and after a moment she seemed to sense my presence. She drew away the sun hat and gave me a warm lazy smile.
“I wondered how long it would take you to find us,” she said. Cameron sat up, as though coming drowsily awake. She saw me standing before the chairs and her expression became curious.
“I haven’t been looking for you – until just now,” I said to Leticia. “I’ve been working, and thinking all morning. I came outside for a breath of fresh air – and for a meeting.”
“About work?” Leticia looked puzzled.
I shook my head. “A meeting between the three of us,” I said. “Kind of like a progress report, and a chance to discuss how the week has been so far for everyone involved.”
Leticia cast a sideways glance at Cameron and then her eyes drifted back to mine. “Now?”
I shrugged. “Why not? It doesn’t look like you two girls have too much going on.”
Leticia sat up in the chair and took a long look at the sky. There was an hour of sunbathing time left before the sun dipped behind the tops of the trees. She adjusted the straps of her bikini top with the hook of her thumb and then fluffed her hands through her hair. “Sure,” she said with a reluctant resignation in her voice. “Just as long as we can hold your meeting right here.”
I pointed to a small wrought-iron table and chairs that were nested around the far side of the pool. “The table,” I said.
When we were seated, I turned my attention to Cameron. I asked her for her thoughts and feedback regarding her experiences since Friday night.
“It’s been an eye-opener,” she admitted. “I knew the reality would be very different to the fantasies I had, but I didn’t realize how different.”
I lifted a curious eyebrow. “In what ways have you noticed differences?”
Cameron shrugged her shoulders. “Well for starters, I thought you would be training me in some dark atmospheric dungeon. I thought all BDSM Masters had these carefully appointed rooms full of whips and equipment,” there was a twinkle in her eyes. “But the reality has been almost mundane.” She held up a hand quickly. “Maybe that’s not the right word,” she said in apology. “I was just expecting something much more elaborate… and intimidating.”
I nodded. This comment was perhaps the most common one regarding the lifestyle. It seemed that every woman who submitted herself thought BDSM was all about walls lined with heavy timber equipment and a range of toys and tools to match a torturer’s dungeon.
“Submissive women do not surrender to intimidating equipment, nor whips, nor crops, nor cuffs,” I said. “And no man can convince a woman he is a Master just because he has all the paraphernalia associated with the lifestyle,” I corrected Cameron’s assertion with patience and a low reasonable voice. “A woman submits to a man. It is the man that matters, not the equipment he has at his disposal. A good Master can offer a submissive woman infinite pleasure and experience with just a few household items and his imagination – if he genuinely is a Master.”
I glanced at Leticia. She had heard this before but nevertheless she was paying attention, watching Cameron’s face as though she were reading the impact of my words as they registered and altered the woman’s expression.
“The reverse is true also,” I cautioned Cameron. “Just because a man talks the talk – and just because he has a room packed with intimidating equipment – that doesn’t make him a good Master. At the heart of this lifestyle it comes down to the relationship between the man and the woman. Everything else is like the decorations on a Christmas tree.”
Cameron nodded her head as though I had delivered some sage revelation that had been dipped in the wisdom of the ages. She tilted her head to the side and made her eyes wide and artless.
“Have you always known what women want?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Ever since I cared to take an interest,” I said.
“How did you learn?”
“Exactly like this,” I smiled. “I asked questions, I sought information and feedback. I asked what women liked and I began to understand a woman’s mind.”
Cameron fell thoughtfully silent, and I picked up the thread of the conversation, steering it back on the course I had initially decided upon.
“Have your experiences since Friday night measured up to your expectations?” I asked.
Cameron nodded her head as though the question required no thought. “Yes,” she said. “On a physical level, the sex has been amazing.” She hooded her eyes almost shyly. “I like how you take control,” she confessed. “How you make me obey you. I thought you would be harsher and more demanding, but it turns out that the things you command me to do are the very things I want so much. It’s like you know what will turn me on – what will arouse me the most.”
I nodded. I didn’t say, “That’s because I listen and pay attention.” I didn’t feel the point needed to be made again.
“It’s on an emotional level that I have been the most surprised,” Cameron went on. “I had expected this to be a purely physical experience – I mean we hardly know each other,” she turned her head to include Leticia in her comment. “And yet I find the emotional satisfaction of submitting to be even more empowering than the liberating sensations of the physical sex. Does that make sense?”
I felt the question had been directed more to Leticia than me. I sat silently. Leticia nodded her agreement. “I get it,” she said. “From a woman’s point of view I can understand how satisfying it must feel to have something like the BDSM lifestyle resonate deep in your soul. And I can understand that it might be even more emotionally satisfying than the sex itself.”
Cameron nodded the way a person does when they feel like someone in the world actually understands them. The two women started to chat between themselves and in a single instant the meeting threatened once more to veer away from the path I had intended.
I interrupted, bluntly. I hadn’t called this meeting for chatter; I had called it for genuine feedback. As a Master, I had always found communication with my submissives crucial. I wanted to know how Cameron felt, and whether she was enjoying her taste of the submissive lifestyle. Listening to her was like a mechanic listening to the sound of a car’s running engine. Her comments and the tone of her voice would help me ‘tune up’ her experiences so that the entire week was mutually satisfying.
A lot of men make the mistake of assuming that their role as a Master centers around their own satisfaction. I was too experienced to make that error. I was only a Master for this week because Cameron had consented to submit. I wanted to know how she felt – and then ensure those feeling were the ones she found satisfying and rewarding.
“Do you feel used?” I asked her suddenly, and then narrowed my eyes because I was paying close attention to her answer.
“Oh, yes!” she said happily. “I sense it in the way you stand over me and insist I use my mouth to please you… and I feel it in the way you watch me when you make me touch myself. It’s like I am on display for you.”
“So feeling used in this way is something that is gratifying?” I wanted to be sure.
“Of course,” Cameron shrugged her shoulders, as though the answer was obvious
. Then she reached across the table, stretching her fingers towards me as though needing to be in contact with me. “I’m enjoying everything about this week,” she smiled sincerely. “There’s not a thing that has happened in that bungalow that I would change in any way. Not a thing…”
I sat back, satisfied and at the same time intrigued. Cameron’s comment had come with a double edge, and an intimation of something more than her submission to me. Between the lines was a veiled willingness for Leticia’s tentative participation in our activities to continue.
As far as I was concerned, I had heard everything I needed to hear. The meeting was adjourned.
I said nothing more.
* * *
When I arrived at the bungalow that evening, Cameron was waiting for me in the bedroom. She was wearing just a pair of panties. Her hair was wet, her body still dewed by drops of water from a shower. She stood attentively with her hands clasped behind her back, her feet spread, and her eyes downcast. She had her shoulders back, drawing my gaze to the proud rounded thrust of her breasts. Her nipples were already hard.
“Pleasure yourself,” I said. It was my custom to insist my submissives make themselves stand before me and come at the beginning of each training session. There were two reasons for this – first, I wanted the woman to orgasm at the start of each time we were together. Then, if I decided that session would be focused only on my pleasure, the woman had already orgasmed and would not feel entirely frustrated… unless I wanted to leave her in a heightened state at the end of the session as a torturous form of punishment.
The second reason was to ensure the woman was comfortable and uninhibited when with me. There could be no room for reticence or reluctance: I wanted my submissives to be without the inhibition of their own self-consciousness. This method had proved effective over many years.
Cameron had already become accustomed to the routine. She slid her hand down inside the waistband of her panties obediently and I saw the press and bulge of her knuckles against the sheer fabric as her fingers found the folds of her pussy and began to explore.
I watched her dispassionately. Her arousal came like a slow sunrise – the hint and glow of her excitement touching the flesh of her cheeks before the fiery blaze of her passion became apparent. She had her eyes closed, her mouth open, gasping for breath. I saw a tiny ripple of excitement tremble through her body and then she clamped her mouth shut and furrowed her brow as if trying desperately to hold the image of some erotic fantasy in the grips of her imagination long enough for her to climax.
I glanced over my shoulder. The bedroom door was closed. Leticia was nowhere to be seen. I turned back to watch Cameron’s face flush with release as she finally sobbed through her orgasm.
She stood, trembling and hunched for several seconds, catching her breath and controlling the aftershocks of her climax. When she finally opened her eyes and slowly lifted her face to mine, there was still a hint of hectic excitement in the flicker of her gaze.
“Take off your panties, and then bend over the chair,” I said. I gestured with my hand to the chair where Leticia had sat each evening.
Cameron dutifully tugged her damp panties down her thighs and then stepped around the foot of the bed. She went to the straight-backed chair and glanced one last time at me from over the smooth brown skin of her shoulder.
“Like this?” she asked softly. She bent at the waist, almost as if she were folding her body in two. She had her arms braced on the seat of the chair to support her. Her hair fell down across her face.
I went behind her and took an appreciative look at the feminine shape of her figure. Her legs were long and toned, her bottom perfect in its symmetry. I kicked her legs apart with a sudden sexy growl and heard Cameron’s breath jam unexpectedly in her throat.
I reached between her parted legs, traced the tip of my fingers across the swollen moist lips of her pussy. The sound in Cameron’s throat became something like a hum. I unzipped my pants slowly and then stepped out of my clothes. I was deliberately taking my time. I wanted Cameron to be writhing with a sense of anticipation… and I was expecting Leticia to arrive at any moment.
I pushed the swollen heat of my cock between Cameron’s legs and felt the hungry wet invitation of her sex. She gave a little gasp and wriggled her hips.
I looked back one last time to the bedroom door. There was no sign of Leticia – no sound of her in the hallway. I considered the implications of that for an instant and then turned my attention back to Cameron. She had come from Chicago for a glimpse into the lifestyle of a submissive. I clamped my hands tightly on her hips as though to trap her body in a vice – and then I thrust my cock deep inside her with a single lunge that overwhelmed my senses and left her panting ragged breaths.
Cameron shuddered – a tremor of her body that started in the back of her thighs and then carried all the way through to her arms. She tried to push back to meet the demanding thrust of my cock but she had no leverage. I dug my fingers into the firm flesh of her hips as a warning to remain perfectly still.
I withdrew my cock, left just the first inch of myself inside her and cupped the palm of my hand. I spanked the fleshy cheek of her bottom several times until the flesh there began to burn crimson. Cameron began to whimper, a blend of pleasurable pain and frustration. I leaned forward with my hips and another inch of my shaft buried itself inside her pussy. Cameron stopped whimpering and seemed to hold her breath, as though bracing herself for what might come.
I smiled knowingly to myself. How many men in such a situation could possibly resist the wet gripping sensation of a woman’s pussy? How many men would forego discipline at this point and merely surrender to the primal urge to fuck?
Most men.
Not all men.
Not me.
I withdrew myself completely from her and she seemed to collapse and go soft. I dropped onto one knee and pulled apart the cheeks of her bottom. Her sex was wet and swollen with her excitement. I inhaled the aromatic scent of her pussy and then slowly drew the flat of my tongue along the folds of her like an artist making broad bold strokes of his brush. Cameron seized tight in an instant – every muscle in her body tensing. I hunted her clit with the tip of my tongue and strummed the sensitive jutting nub like a musician. Cameron was rocking slowly over the chair. When the taste of her was like wine on my tongue, I stood slowly and spanked her again.
“Do not expect anything from me,” I said in a sharp tone of command. “Anticipation will leave you aroused and frustrated, because what you anticipate will never eventuate.” I gave her another cupped-handed spank – designed to create more noise than inflict pain. “You must leave your mind empty, make your body a blank canvas. It is for me to use, to color and create emotion, arousal and desire. Anything you expect or want will only lead to despair. Surrender yourself to me completely – and the rewards will be orgasms more intense than you could ever imagine.”
Cameron sucked in a long tremulous breath. “Yes, Master!” she said in the voice of one who wanted to be made a true believer. “I will!”
I thrust myself back inside her, sinking the full length of my cock deep within the moist embrace of her pussy. Cameron made a stifled sound of satisfaction. I felt the instantaneous grip of her muscles as they closed around me. I inhaled a sharp breath and then began to fuck her in long slow lunges, each movement designed to be an exquisite blend of satisfaction and torment. Cameron was on her tiptoes, grunting now with each new thrust of my hips. I felt her try to push back against me once more and I stopped as if it was a form of punishment.
“Be still!” I snapped. “This is not for your pleasure, it’s for mine. You are to remain still and pliant. You are to surrender your pussy without thought of your own needs.”
I spanked her bottom again, and then leaned over her body and took a fistful of her hair. Cameron gasped at the sudden shock, and then her breathing became ragged.
I plunged myself deep inside her again. Cameron began to shudder. I found a slow, s
teady rhythm, fascinated by the delicate arch of her back, the movement of her shoulders and the quiver of her bottom as I deepened each stroke. Cameron was grunting, her face lifted so that she was staring at a blank wall. The chair began to teeter and then rock with the impact of each lunge, Cameron’s body washing helpless in the spindrift of my growing lust, like a piece of driftwood on a storm-tossed ocean. She had no control of herself – poised and off balance so that all she could do was respond and react to my will. I increased the rhythm of our bodies colliding together until the sound of flesh slapping hard against flesh filled the room.
I sensed her rather than saw her.
I knew she was there before she made a sound.
I turned my head slowly and there she was.
Leticia was standing in the doorway, her body half-hidden by the ajar door. She was watching Cameron – the sway of her breasts, the tensed arch of her back and the tented stretch of her fingers on the chair cushion. Then her gaze found mine. Her lips were slightly parted and there was a familiar flush of color high on Leticia’s cheeks. She came into the room, her movements almost feline. She was wearing just a pair of panties and a bra. She stood at the foot of the bed for a long moment with her hands clasped in front of her, almost self-consciously.
“You can stand and watch, or you can make yourself comfortable,” I narrowed my eyes. I turned my attention back to Cameron. She had realized from my words that Leticia had come into the room. I heard her moan and I understood that the sound was somehow meaningful.
Leticia crawled onto the bed and then lay on her side, moving in such a way as to avoid attention – as though I might look up and not have noticed her at all. But I had noticed her – I was aware of everything. I ran my eyes up the length of Leticia’s long legs to the nest of her pussy. Her legs were slightly parted. She was propped up on one elbow so that the weight of her breasts within the cups of her bra made the flesh there bulge like a provocation. I let my eyes drift back down to her panties. They were damp.
