Maggie and the Master

by Sarah Fisher

  A female hand cupped her breast, and she smelt expensive perfume. Freya pinched her nipple between finger and thumb and then drew it between her lips and sucked. She groaned against the supple flesh and began to tease Maggie’s sex, teasing the wet lips that were held open by the split leather harness. Maggie wriggled, trying to get away from the fingers, although she knew she was already treacherously wet.

  ‘Oh, don’t struggle, honey,’ purred Freya, her tone heavy with sensual intent, and an instant later something snapped onto Maggie’s right nipple, making her cry out in shock and pain, and immediately the hurt was repeated on her other nipple. Maggie writhed desperately, trying to get away from the intense pain of the clamps as they chewed her erect buds.

  ‘Gently, my pretty,’ murmured Freya, and Maggie shivered, letting the sensation settle. It was hot and raw and made her eyes fill with tears, but after a few moments by some miracle her body began to adjust, as if, once the pressure was understood, it could cope. She took a long low breath, letting her body and mind settle. It was going to be all right after all, wasn’t it?

  And then Freya pinched the lips of her sex. Maggie froze, felt the brush of some kind of clamp on the delicate folds of flesh, and held her breath. ‘Please, no… no,’ she gasped. ‘No…’

  The jaws sprang shut and Maggie screamed. The pain was like nothing she had ever felt and tears meandered down her cheeks.

  ‘Steady,’ consoled Freya, pressing her lips to Maggie’s. ‘Don’t fight it, breath slowly and relax into it. It will be all right, just breath slowly.’

  Maggie tried to accept the throbbing discomfort, and then felt Beau licking her again.

  ‘That’s enough now, slave,’ Freya intervened, and this time Maggie moaned not with pain but with frustration as the grovelling tongue left her.

  Then before she had time to compose herself she heard something cut through the air and then screamed again as the cane found its mark. Her body thrust forward and Freya caned her again across her defenceless bottom. The first scream seemed to have barely died before another surpassed it. As her body arched the clamps on her nipples and labia seemed to bite even harder.

  Maggie thought she would go mad from the torment, and then there was another stroke as brutal as the first two. Her nipples ached and her buttocks glowed. Again the blows exploded, and again and again. Maggie could hear someone sobbing and begging for mercy, and realised it was her.

  Max’s fingers tightened around his brandy glass. His cock ached with desire as Maggie sobbed and writhed deliciously in her restraints. She was truly magnificent. Her toned body was covered with a gloss of perspiration, her whole being alight with the pain, and yet he could also sense the tide of arousal behind it. Beau crouched at her feet like a dog waiting for leftovers. Freya’s eyes were like glowing coals, her mouth open, her expression alive with excitement and anticipation.

  At last she dropped the cane on the floor and grabbed Maggie’s hair, wet with sweat and oil. ‘Had enough?’ she spat breathlessly.

  ‘Yes, mistress,’ Maggie sobbed.

  ‘Good.’ Freya caught hold of the clamps on her nipples and pulled her closer still. ‘You will do as you’re told next time.’

  Maggie gasped with pain. ‘Yes, mistress,’ she promised. ‘I will, mistress.’

  Freya pulled off the clamps and Maggie wailed again as the woman massaged the blood-flow back, the apparent kindness a double-edged sword for the rush of blood was all the more painful for the stimulation. The clamp on Maggie’s sex lips was also removed and then Freya looked at Guido, who was watching with interest.

  ‘Get her out of the stocks,’ she ordered, and as Maggie slumped to the floor the woman unfastened the crotch of her leather basque.

  Max watched keenly. He suspected that Maggie had never been with another female before, and wondered how she’d react. If she refused to comply with Freya’s demands, he knew the severe blonde would have no hesitation in meting out yet more punishment. With Maggie on her knees Freya cupped her face and pulled her to her sex. Freya really was a natural dominatrix, her pleasure truly in inflicting pain and exacting total obedience from those few who passed her stringent selection tests. Max knew she would be ready now for that growing pleasure to be brought to its natural conclusion. He smiled; on many occasions it had been him who’d had the pleasure of taking her to the very edge and beyond.

  Crouched on the floor Maggie shivered. There was an instant, a split second when she pulled back with misgivings and revulsion, and then slowly she pressed a kiss to Freya’s shaven mound, her tongue inquisitively slipping between the outer labia, easing them apart.

  Freya sighed and beckoned to Guido to bring her one of the low dungeon stools. Then sitting upon it she opened her legs wide. ‘Use you fingers as well as you tongue,’ she instructed, and without hesitation Maggie complied, any resistance quashed. Beau crawled over and unfastened the leather laces of Freya’s basque, exposing shapely breasts, and then sucked one nipple deep into his mouth. Guido looked to Max, who nodded, and the driver sank to his knees to suck the other, his erect cock in his hand.

  It was all far too much to resist, so Max also got to his knees, but behind his slave girl and pressed a hand between her legs. She moved against him instinctively and he could smell her arousal. He unfastened his trousers and with one long penetration he drove his cock deep into Maggie’s sex, and was rewarded by a guttural moan of pleasure as he filled her completely.

  Maggie felt the first traitorous ripples of an orgasm reverberate through her body, and knew they weren’t hers alone. Above her Freya moaned in delight, and she could hear the guttural snorts of the men as they approached their own orgasms. The climax, when it came, was rapid and destructive, like a hurricane ripping through her, tearing her and the others apart.

  She heard Freya cry out and felt her grip her head and pull her face even tighter to her sex, anointing Maggie’s mouth with her slick pleasure. She felt a splash on her shoulder, and another on her opposite arm and her back, and felt as if she was drowning in the men’s spunk, while deep inside her she felt the final throbbing surge that told her the man thrusting between her legs had filled her with his seed.

  Chapter Seven

  Maggie woke in the half-light, wondering where on earth she was. A hand was between her thighs, lazily exploring the contours of her sex, stirring her from a dreamless sleep. As she tried to turn over she realised with a start that her hands were secured to a long chain that bound her to a bed. It was Max Jordan’s bed. Images and events of the previous evening flooded her slowly awakening brain, and not just images, but also Max’s instructions, his rules and constraints, which she must learn to obey as second nature. Max Jordan’s rules.

  ‘Slaves are not allowed to urinate in private, nor bathe without their master’s permission.’

  They had been drinking brandy after Freya and Beau had left in the small hours of the morning, and Max told her exactly what she must expect and adhere to if she continued in his service.

  ‘You will be beaten every time we meet,’ he told her. ‘Ideally you should be beaten every day, but for the time being we must content ourselves with every meeting. Before your punishment you will tell me the things you have done that you think might displease me.’ As he spoke he watched her expression intently, although she wasn’t sure whether it was to watch for any sign of dissension or just because he enjoyed observing her reactions.

  ‘From now on,’ he continued, ‘I will decide who uses your body, and that includes masturbation. These are just a few of the fundamentals, Maggie. When you signed the contract you became mine - body and soul. You fully understand that, don’t you?’

  Maggie nodded, tired and sated, the brandy relaxing her, unable to believe that a man of his age still had the stamina to go on when all she wanted was to fall into bed and sleep.

  Max savoured a mouthful of the amber liquid, and then continued. ‘When you are here and sleeping in my bed you are to wake me in the morning by sucking my coc
k.

  ‘Your body is always to be available to me, or any person I choose.

  ‘Whenever you are awaiting my presence, or any of my guests, unless told otherwise you will always assume the slave position - on all fours, legs apart, head down. Do you understand me, Maggie?’

  She nodded sleepily. It was all too much to take in. Her whole body ached, her mind ached and she wanted to sleep, but Max continued. ‘And from now on, until otherwise instructed you will keep every weekend free for my pleasure. Guido will pick you up every Friday evening. Other than toiletries you will only need to bring the clothes you stand up in. And whilst on the subject of clothes, as a slave you are forbidden to wear underwear unless it is something I have given you to wear for a specific purpose. This includes when you are at home, out shopping, or at work.’

  ‘But what if someone notices?’ said Maggie, instantly thinking of Simon Faraday at work.

  Max smiled. ‘Such trivialities are unimportant,’ he said, easily dismissing her concerns.

  ‘But what if they say something, or use the knowledge to try to take advantage of me?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Then you are to let them,’ he said simply. ‘After all, you are a slave now, Maggie. Indulge any such liberties, and then you must report to me every last detail.’

  She blushed.

  ‘So,’ he said, draining the last of his glass. ‘It is time for bed now, my little one. Oh, and one more thing, if I want you at any other time I will ring and have Guido collect you.’ He produced a mobile phone and passed it to her. ‘This is for you, to be used exclusively for communication between us.’

  Maggie took it and nodded.

  Totally exhausted, she had assumed that once they were upstairs she would be allowed to sleep, but instead Max had her kneel at the side of the bed and then used her mouth, fucked her as hard there as he had her cunt, then holding her close he filled her mouth with his seed and she had little choice but to swallow every last drop.

  Before she had joined him in bed he put leather cuffs on her wrists and fastened her by a silver chain to the head of the bed. As the lock snapped shut he smiled. ‘Sweet dreams, slave,’ he said, and switched off the light.

  Now, in the half-light of the bedroom and wide-awake, Maggie remembered her instructions, eased down under the bedclothes, took his flaccid penis between her lips and very gently began to suck. Her reward was a low chuckle of approval.

  ‘Good girl, good girl,’ he mumbled. ‘But I want a little something more than your mouth this morning.’ He pulled her up to him and stroked her hair back off her brow. ‘Come with me,’ he said, reaching over to get the key from the bedside cabinet drawer to unlock her wrists.

  Max led her across the bedroom to his en suite bathroom, and turned on the shower. He then slipped off his robe and pushed her down to the floor. ‘Hands and knees,’ he snapped, and Maggie stared up at him in surprise. ‘Now,’ he insisted impatiently, taking a tube of lubricant from the glass shelf over the basin.

  She obeyed, and before she had time to absorb what was happening she felt him work some grease into her anus and immediately felt him crouch behind her and press his erection between her buttocks. She held still, too apprehensive to resist, and felt his cock relentlessly sinking into her tight channel, deeper than she thought possible. Slowly her body gave way to him, filling her until she could feel his balls nestling against the lips of her empty sex. She whimpered, the experience so at odds with everything she had ever considered acceptable.

  Max grunted with pleasure. ‘Oh yes…’ he growled under his breath as he began to move. ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘A little,’ she whispered truthfully. ‘But it’s not the pain. It’s just…’ How could she explain that it made her feel humiliated? He must surely know what he was doing to her, that in some ways what she felt was worse than any physical discomfort, and yet at the same time strangely, wickedly exciting? Crouched on the floor in the bathroom Max Jordan had reduced her to the lowest common denominator. Kneeling and naked for his pleasure she was only a sexual object, a pleasure to be taken, a good tight fuck. Tears ran down her cheeks as he ploughed deep into her rectum, her cries seeming to drive him on to greater effort.

  She was terrified he might hurt her, terrified he might stop and terrified of the strange excitement building low in her belly. What was happening to her?

  Above her Max’s breath was becoming ragged, his thrusts more instinctive, and Maggie found herself moving with him, longing to slide a hand between her legs to stroke her treacherous, throbbing clit.

  ‘Please, master, may I touch myself?’ she whispered, her breath heavy with trepidation and desire.

  ‘Oh yes, my little one, you certainly may,’ he snorted as he gripped her hips and pulled her back onto him. So Maggie began to rub her clit, feeling the little bud pulsing under her fingertips, but before she could orgasm Max ejaculated, driving furiously deep, and denied her own release Maggie slumped to the floor tiles, stunned and trembling, his penis pulsing rhythmically inside her tightness. Then when completely drained of his essence Max withdrew and gathered her limp form into his arms.

  ‘Well done, slave,’ he said, kissing her ear.

  Maggie pressed herself into his embrace, seeking warmth and reassurance, and oddly enough, comfort. Gently he helped her to her feet and together they stepped into the shower. His hands worked over her body, lathering her, his washing her both an act of tenderness and an act of possession. She leant against him, giving him free rein to touch and explore her. His fingers pressed back and forth over her pleasure bud, and then he pulled down the showerhead and played it between her legs. Maggie gasped as the fierce jets found their mark. Skilfully he teased it back and forth over her clitoris and the succulent flesh of her sex and bottom, and she immediately felt the first glowing ripples of an orgasm wash over her.

  ‘Ooohhhh…’ she gasped.

  ‘Don’t forget to ask,’ he warned, nipping her neck and shoulders.

  ‘Please, master, please let me come,’ she obediently begged. ‘Please.’

  ‘Very well, you may,’ he acquiesced, and gratefully she began to move against the powerful water jets, pressing her hips forward until she thought she could take no more, at which point Max sunk to his knees and gently began sucking her engorged clit. She cried out, this time in pure bliss, and let the sensations absorb her. She held him, crying out in delight, aware only of her body and the relentless ministrations of his tongue. Under his skilful manipulations the wonderful orgasm seemed to go on and on until she thought she would faint from the sheer intensity of feelings and emotions.

  At last, after what seemed like an eternity, there was stillness with only the sound of the cascading water. Trembling, Maggie didn’t resist as Max helped her out of the shower and wrapped her in a fluffy white towel.

  ‘I have to get on with my day now,’ he told her, slipping on his towelling bathrobe. ‘I have things to attend to. I want you to go back to bed and rest; it’s still early and there’s no need for you to be up yet. I’ll have Mrs Griffin bring you up some tea and sort out your clothes for the day.’ He kissed her forehead and she padded back to the bedroom, and with a sense of relief, slipped between the sheets.

  It was almost midday when Mrs Griffin, carrying a tray, woke Maggie. She drew the curtains and plumped the pillows, treating her like royalty.

  And Maggie made the most of it. Here she was living on Max Jordan’s terms and by Max Jordan’s rules. Never in all her adult life had she surrendered so totally to another person, and yet somewhere in that act of submission she found the very thing she craved. Something about it gave her a huge thrill, and yet something about it troubled her to the core. With Max all life changed, the truths she had held so dear for so long altered and contorted in such a surreal world.

  After she’d eaten Mrs Griffin returned and helped her dress, apply her make-up and brush her hair. An hour later, dressed in a cream silk basque with wired cups that displayed her breasts like ripe fruit
, cream stockings and high heels, Maggie went downstairs. Catching sight of herself in a mirror she saw the face and body of a beautiful courtesan.

  In the sitting room Max was busy at his desk, papers spread out in front of him. He looked up fleetingly, barely seeming to register her as she walked into the room. She hoped he would say something, compliment her appearance, but he merely indicated she should kneel at his feet, the perfect slave, the elegant possession of her master.

  Max had plans for Maggie. He had already arranged for the next part of her training, but it was essential she learn fully that she was the slave, not the star.

  He stroked her hair, her cheek resting on his thigh. She delighted him, she was everything he could wish for, but by the same token it was important that she understood her place in the scheme of things.

  ‘Guido will be taking care of you today,’ he told her, and she looked up in surprise. ‘You want to say something, slave?’

  ‘Um, no, master,’ she said, although they both knew that wasn’t true.

  ‘Good.’ Max rang the bell on his desk before turning his attention back to his papers, and a few minutes later Guido appeared. As his driver crossed the room Max felt Maggie tense, but said nothing.

  Maggie looked up at him, and he indicated she should stand. She did as she was told, although her eyes were wide with apprehension. Max smiled; he had the perfect cure for that.

  Guido slipped a blindfold over her eyes, gripped her arm and led her away.

  Max dropped the papers back into his desk; time for the show to begin.

  Maggie tried not to let her fear show, instinct telling her that Guido would take advantage of the slightest sign of weakness. He led her out of the sitting room, that much she could guess, and then across the hall and down some stairs to what she assumed were the kitchens, and then down yet more steps. It was nerve-wracking not being able to see and she shivered, afraid that she might lose her footing, while at the same time her mind was spiralling away at the prospect of what might follow.