To Seek a Master

by Monica Belle

  Laura shivered, on the edge of giving in to her fantasy, but the idea was a little too ridiculous. It would be better if Charles treated her as the Human Chameleon had treated Eloise, keeping her in a display case, to be taken out for his amusement when he felt so inclined. She’d go in the cage in the necessary room, naked and helpless, all day while he worked, until he came home, when she’d be made to suck his cock through the bars in order to pay for her evening meal.

  The fantasy was too good to miss. Her hand stole between her legs and she began to masturbate, already sighing with pleasure as she teased her sex and imagined how she’d feel. For eight hours or more there would be no escape, her cage securely locked and the key in his pocket. She’d be naked, her natural state, every detail of her body on show as she crawled on the floor of the low cage or lay on her back with her thighs carelessly open, imprisoned and yet completely secure.

  Laura jumped at the sound of a cough from beside her, her hands instinctively snatching at her sex and breasts to cover herself an instant before Charles stepped from the under-growth.

  ‘The idea is to meditate, Laura, not masturbate.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I should have known that to fulfil one of your favourite fantasies would have this result. You are incorrigible, and also rather distracting.’

  He looked up as he spoke, and pointed. Laura followed the direction of his gaze, to find a small camera unit wedged into the V between two branches some twenty feet off the ground. She felt the blood rush to her face as Charles began to grin.

  ‘I was trying to compose our contract, never an easy task but especially difficult with you.’

  ‘Sorry. I was thinking of you, about how it would feel to spend all day in the cage in the necessary room while you’re at work, then have you come home and … and make me suck you through the bars to earn my dinner.’

  ‘How every imaginative of you. Perhaps I’ll do that, one day, who knows? For the time being …’

  He trailed off, approaching the cage as he peeled down his fly. Laura gave an eager purr, getting onto her hands and knees as she pressed her face to the bars, allowing him to feed her his cock. Without the slightest trace of inhibition she began to play with herself once more, teasing her sex as he grew in her mouth. She played what was being done to her over and over in her mind: naked on her knees, locked into a steel cage and sucking cock through the bars for the man who had imprisoned her.

  She had come before he was even fully erect, but continued to do her best and to enjoy herself, quickly bringing him to orgasm in her mouth. Spent, he unlocked the cage, allowing Laura to climb out. As she stretched her stiff limbs he was looking at his watch.

  ‘Forty-two minutes, which make eighteen strokes of the strap.’

  ‘But it’s not fair!’

  ‘I am always fair. You came out of the cage after forty-two minutes, which means eighteen strokes of the strap. Would you rather I went back on my word?’

  ‘No, but … I thought you’d finished with me. You unlocked the cage!’

  ‘A simple test, which you failed. Now stay still.’

  Laura gave in, trying not to pout as her ankles were fixed into the straps on the whipping bench. She had already been spanked, turned over Charles’ knee the moment they were indoors and slaps rained down on her bottom as she was lectured on her language. It had been sudden and hard, too much so to allow her to react sexually, but as he led her upstairs she could already feel the heat of her cheeks starting to get to her, allowing her anticipation to rise despite her fear of the strap, but not enough to still her protests.

  ‘Yes, Mr Latchley, but I really did think I was done!’

  ‘A punishment, once decided on, must never be revoked.’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘Sh.’

  It was a gentle, soothing sound and Laura went quiet as he continued to fasten her into place. She was in the same thoroughly undignified position as before, with her bottom the highest part of her body, although from the design of the bench it was clear that she could have been fixed into place the other way around and left a good deal less exposed. There was a trace of panic in her voice as she tried to make a joke of her position.

  ‘You always like me bum high, don’t you?’

  ‘Naturally. Besides which, exposure and shame are an important part of punishment. There are some people, purists, who say that a Master shouldn’t enjoy punishing his girls, but that has always struck me as unnecessarily hidebound, or stiff if you prefer the term. Do you want a gag?’

  ‘Um … no, not this time. I haven’t any knickers anyway.’

  ‘No you don’t. There are plenty of alternatives, but if you think you can cope without, so be it.’

  ‘I’m not sure. How much does it hurt? As much as the cane? Because it … I mean …’

  She stopped, realising that she’d begun to babble in a panic stricken attempt to delay her punishment. Charles chuckled.

  ‘I bet you’re the same at the dentist, talking about your last holiday or the weather instead of opening wide like a good girl.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Talk all you like, if it helps, bearing in mind that I’m planning to go to work on your bottom and not your mouth. In fact, you can count your own strokes.’

  He had gone to the rack of implements as he spoke, and reached out to touch first one and then a second among a line of supple leather straps. Some were longer, some shorter, some brown, some black, some with two or even three tails, one of which he chose, hefting it in his hand and bringing it down across his palm with a meaty smack that made Laura wince.

  ‘A tawse, the traditional implement for corporal punishment in Scottish schools, and very effective, so I believe.’

  ‘Oh God.’

  Laura had already begun to wriggle in her straps as he approached, panic taking hold sooner than it had with the cane. Then, she had had no idea what a beating felt like, and only six strokes to take. Now she knew, and had been awarded eighteen. Yet she was determined to take her medicine, gripping the legs of the whipping stool despite her uncontrollable shaking and the huge bubble of panic welling up in her throat as Charles lifted the tawse over her bottom.

  ‘I will keep this even and regular. I will not stop until you are done. Remember to count.’

  ‘Yes, but, Charles, wait …’

  The tawse smacked down across her cheeks, making her jerk and gasp, then again, almost immediately, and a third time.

  ‘Count.’

  ‘Four! I mean three … ow! Four! Five!’

  ‘Good girl.’

  The tawse was falling across her bottom at an exact rhythm, applied with hard precise smacks that gave her no opportunity to recover herself, nor for fear of the next, and only just allowing her to pant out the numbers between each crack of leather on flesh. Before she’d got to ten she lost control completely, writhing and kicking in her straps, wiggling her bottom and begging for mercy. It made no difference, the straps keeping her firmly in place as smack after smack was applied, and at last she found her voice once more.

  ‘Twelve! Thirteen! Fourteen, you bastard, you pig, pig, pig! Ow, fifteen and sixteen!’

  He carried on, applying the last two smacks, then stopped.

  ‘That’s three pigs and a bastard, Laura. What did I say about your language?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Four more strokes.’

  ‘Oh God!’

  She began to panic again, kicking hard against her bonds, and as the tawse cracked down one more time she was wishing earnestly that she’d hadn’t called him names. Yet the pause had let the heat of her bottom start to get to her and he was spacing the strokes, deliberately allowing her arousal to rise. By the last two she had begun to push herself up to the strokes, drawing a light chuckle from Charles as she called them out.

  ‘Twenty-one! Oh my poor bottom … twenty-two!’

  He put the tawse down. Relief flooded through Laura, and pride for having taken h
er punishment. She looked back, smiling crookedly at him from her upside down position.

  ‘Thank you. Mr Latchley. Please may I have a cuddle now?’

  ‘Naturally, just as soon as I’ve fucked you.’

  ‘But you only came just now!’

  ‘I know, but you affect me like nobody else, Laura. Maybe it’s your body, maybe the way you behave, but either way, you get fucked.’

  He had unzipped himself as he spoke, and quickly fed his cock into Laura’s mouth. She sucked, letting her feelings come as he grew in her mouth, from the heat in her bottom and the delicious shame of being made to suck the man who had beaten her erect so that he could use her. It was an outrageous thing to do and, for her, perfect.

  As soon as he was ready he took her, straddled across the whipping bench to drive his cock down into her sex from behind. She could feel the muscles of his belly pressing on her aching bottom as she was fucked, her head full of thoughts of what had been done to her, strapped up, beaten and then casually used in a way she’d fantasised over a thousand times and which was at last her reality. Soon she was wriggling herself against him, close to orgasm as he pumped into her and left her on the edge once he’d come.

  She was begging immediately, pleading for him to take mercy on her and bring her off. His response was to pick up the tawse once more, again applying it to her bottom with a firm, even rhythm, but lower, to send a powerful shock to her sex with every stroke. Laura stuck up her bottom, glorying in the pain and indignity of being strapped until she came under the blows.

  Sunday was a lazy day, with Laura unselfconsciously naked about the house and Charles alternately cooking and working on their contract. The very thought of signing it gave Laura a sharp thrill, and she was determined to make a ritual of doing so, much as she had once imagined her wedding day, only with her naked on a collar and lead rather than in a white dress.

  By lunchtime she had evolved an entire ceremony, as elaborate as it was impractical, including the use of a temple of sorts and a large audience to witness her acceptance of his will. On a more realistic note, she had been enjoying the sight and feel of the marks left by his strap across her bottom, and was hoping that some sort of punishment would be involved, so that when she put her name to the document she was in the state of perfect surrender that came no other way.

  After their meal Charles went back to work, entrusting Laura with the washing up, after which she went out to lie on the lawn. Before long she half asleep in the warm sunshine, only to be brought back to her full senses by the sound of Charles rearranging the crockery and cutlery she had just put away but evidently not in exactly the right place. When he came outside a moment later she instinctively rolled face down, offering her bottom to whatever he had in mind for her, but he contented himself with a remark.

  ‘I admit to liking my things just so, but having seen your efforts at putting crockery away I’m rather more inclined to accept your offer to be my pet.’

  ‘Woof, woof.’

  ‘Be careful, or you’ll be spending next weekend wearing a pair of big floppy ears and a tail. Right, in this envelope is a draft of our contract. I don’t want you to read it now. I want you to read it at home, sober, and you’re not to start fantasising over it and playing with yourself. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Latchley.’

  ‘I somehow doubt that, but I do at least know that you’re honest enough to admit it if you do get carried away. Seriously, it needs your careful attention, because once you’ve signed it becomes law.’

  ‘Is it legally binding?’

  ‘Our law, not the law of the land. Think of it as a business contract, valid only in so far as it’s subject to the law, but with you as the goods involved.’

  ‘Hmm … that’s quite sexy. There’s bit in Brigands of Barbary where the heroine is sold for three camels and a goat … ow! That was my thigh!’

  ‘Girls with bruised bottoms get smacked thighs, and thighs sting more, as you will learn. Now will you please listen?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Latchley. Sorry, Mr Latchley. Ow!’

  ‘Sarcasm, Laura.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘That sounded a little more genuine. No, it’s not legally binding. It’s a private agreement between you and me. As you’re young, and not very experienced, we’ll review it after a month, and again at suitable intervals but, in between, it governs your behaviour. Can you accept that?’

  ‘Yes, as long as I’ve agreed to everything in it.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  He put the envelope down on the grass beside her. Laura put her chin on her hands, her bliss now slightly marred by the prospect of parting and work the next day, yet there was no hurry, and no denying the message the faint tingle of her slapped thighs was sending.

  ‘I’m all yours, if you want me.’

  22

  IN HER FLAT that evening, after a boisterous reunion with Smudge, Laura began to read the contract, face down on her bed while he busied himself with a yellow plastic duck he had found at Mrs Phipps’.

  As she had expected from Charles the contract was long and detailed, leaving very little to chance. The essence of it was that she would be his. That meant accepting discipline, obeying his orders and having no secrets from him whatsoever. It also gave him complete access to her body, but subject to a few common sense conditions. She was also to dress as he pleased, but on the understanding that if he wanted some exotic costume it was his responsibility to pay for it, while she had an alternative available at all times, to go completely nude.

  By the time she’d reached his description of how she might be expected to dress she was itching to put a hand down to her sex, but the next section proved to be a very dry assurance that he would not exploit her financially by taking her wages or insisting on her signing over her assets. The idea had never occurred to Laura, but she could see that it made sense, being designed to provide an assurance that his desire to own her was genuine and not simply a way of exploiting her nature.

  There was a great deal more, much of which she felt could have been taken as read, and none of which she wanted to change. Charles was naturally thorough, something she’d only ever been able to achieve with a great deal of conscious effort, but more importantly he had taken her needs into account as carefully as his own. He had even included guaranteed limits to her discipline for the sake of health, something she was sure she would never have been able to consider once she was in the strange, ecstatic headspace brought on by punishment.

  When it came to sex, she was to be his and his alone, something she would have taken for granted in any case, as an inevitable part of being in love, while to her relief he also gave an assurance of faith, although there was one crucial exception, an exception that put butterflies in her stomach. He could punish other women, if the situation arose, just so long as the encounter was not openly sexual and, far more importantly, she could be punished by other women in any way he felt appropriate.

  The very thought made her shake, first bringing her thoughts back to Hazel Manston-Jones, and then to the implications of the agreement. Even to imagine being spanked to the sound of another woman’s disdainful laughter was almost too much, but to think of being put across the knee, on Charles’ command, her bottom exposed and smacked by some smug bitch was the last straw. Best of all, it could be Hazel herself.

  Laura gave in to the inevitable. Bouncing onto her knees, she pushed her bottom up and slowly eased her pyjama trousers down over her cheeks as she let her imagination run tree. Hazel would come to the cottage, it didn’t matter why. She and Charles would get on well, too well, so that after an alcoholic lunch the two of them would be swapping happy reminiscences of how much fuss Laura made over a spanking. From there it would be a small thing for Charles to suggest that Hazel dish out the punishment Laura had earned that week.

  She would protest, but it would be too late. The contract would have been signed and she’d have no choice. She’d be put across Hazel’s legs on the big leat
her sofa in Charles’ study, made to stick her bottom in the air, adopting the same exposed position she was in on her bed. Quickly she pulled her pyjamas back up, for the pleasure of easing them down again and imagining the agonising sense of shame that same exposure would bring with her body draped across Hazel’s lap as her knickers were pulled down.

  That alone was more than enough to get her there, and she began to run the scene over and over in her head as she rubbed at herself and tried to ignore the plaintive squeaking of Smudge’s duck. Charles would be watching, amused by her reaction to Hazel, enjoying her shame as much as the sight of her bare bottom. He’d get his cock out, bringing himself erect in his hand as Hazel administered a firm, no nonsense spanking, making Laura squeal and writhe as her bottom turned red and her cheeks bounced to show off every intimate detail between. Worse still, she’d surrender her dignity completely, begging Charles to fuck her while Hazel held her in place, and with that thought Laura began to come, and to babble.

  ‘Yes, please … fuck me! Fuck my spanked bottom, Charles. Fuck me while she holds me. Fuck me!’

  She was screaming as it happened, exactly as she had anticipated, her brain aflame with the image of how she would look as her sex filled; kneeling with her pyjamas pulled down and her bare bottom pushed high as she was mounted, the big cock pushed deep into her body, pumping frantically as she came in a long hard orgasm that seemed to last forever. Even when she was done she stayed as she was, her mouth curved into a little happy smile, content to be used and imagining how Charles would react if she confessed in the morning.

  Over the next few days Laura fell into a pleasant, easy routine. When she admitted to her sin Charles told her he had already guessed, that for her honesty she would not be punished, and that she could have a dispensation as long as she continued to be truthful. She accepted happily, glad that it was out in the open. They discussed the contract over drinks in a pub near to Cambridge station, and Laura asked that the signing be made an event. Charles agreed immediately and they decided on the weekend after next as the ideal time.