A Master For A Desperate Slave

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “And the man?”

  “He wanted to see my ass.”

  “So—”

  “Marco had me stand up and lift my dress.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, our table was tucked behind a potted plant so I don’t think anyone else could see.”

  “And this is what Colleen wants?”

  She shudders visibly, which only adds to her erotic allure. “I do. He’s not as hard and deeply sadistic as you are. Sometimes he treats me like a princess; it’s just certain things he’s very Old World about. That suits me. He reminds me so much of all the domineering dance instructors I had, all the directors and choreographers who make women their royalty and then treat them like chattel. Strange as it seems, that suits me.”

  “So, what happened to being beaten?”

  She sighs. “Beatings are punishment, not just for the heck of it—not that it doesn’t often lead to great sex. But sometimes, I have to be a little naughty just to get that kind of attention. You know me, though, I love being wicked.” She cutely scrunches up her nose and her eyes dance with light. Ben can see she’s in love.

  “You look happy.”

  “I am. So, how’s it going with Dana?”

  He purses his lips. “Oh, we have our ups and downs. We’re living together now.”

  “Still working together?”

  “Yes, still working together. She’s a constant challenge. But I like challenges, and if I’ve taught her anything, it’s to step away from her fear and do as she’s told. It takes trust, and that’s hard for her, but we’re both learning.”

  “I was kind of surprised not to see her here tonight.”

  “Oh, well, she might have been, but doing penance took precedence over pleasure.”

  ***

  Ben took off to meet Colleen for dinner tonight. I could have gone with him, but then I stupidly fumed about his making the date with his old girlfriend—jealous habits die hard. He’s having steamed oysters, cracked crab and sour dough bread at some little bistro on the wharf, while I stay at the office working…it’s not the usual sort of work under the usual sort of circumstances. I’m wearing the harness, a necklace of slave bells and my heavy work boots—not a very normal combination, but considering what I’m doing, most appropriate.

  I recall the day I returned from boot camp, when I entered his office determined to get his commitment, he mentioned that he had someone coming in to clean up the mess that his small office had become. Little did I know that someone would be me.

  He said he liked his kink in middle of his life, not just on the fringes—maybe it wasn’t those exact word but the idea was the same. My cleaning his office is how I’m submitting today. Getting down on my knees and scrubbing the floor—or in the case of each office, I’m stripping, sanding and refinishing the floors one by one. Benjamin thinks the office should reflect the vibrant energy of our enterprise, which thanks to my day job is growing spectacularly. So, ALL the redecorating falls to me—including most of the heavy labor. It does serve the dual purpose of getting the job done economically and giving my master an easy venue for torturing me, which I love and hate with the same passion I did during my training.

  Normally, Benjamin will be working late while I suffer here, with my sexually steamy body ready at any moment for a thwack from his cane, or a good spanking, just to keep me motivated. He did take a timeout one night for a little heavy bondage. He dragged my naked body down the lift elevator to the warehouse, strung me up, beat me until I screamed, then left me there for God knows how long before he returned and I crawled back up the stairs—no, I didn’t ride the elevator this time, I crawled two long flights of stairs. I think Benjamin was hoping someone would find me so compromised, but I managed to complete the trek without being seen. That night was the closest thing to real dungeon play in the last three months.

  Most of the time my life is like it is tonight. He orders me around and I work in whatever scant attire pleases him, which makes my body available for his use. He’s fucked me on every desk in the office, over chairs, tables, in the stairwells and against the walls. It is his playground and I’m his happy toy. Yes, his happy toy. Nights like this I float in my dreamy oblivion forgetting all else, all but his commandments. And I can’t ignore the sexual energy that blooms in me; it crawls through my veins like a summer vine. It wraps its way about my flesh, closes in around me like love and keeps me painfully ready for the wild explosion of sex.

  Sometimes we have sex here at the office, and sometimes we wait until we get home—my apartment. The cage has been moved to the bedroom, where on any given night, Benjamin will lock me inside and I’ll sleep with memories of the woods.

  I think the cage is more a punishment than anything else, since he’s usually pissed at me for something just before I get ordered to my knees and told to crawl inside. The device seems to prevent my petulant side from rising, when it’s sure to ‘screw up the works’—his words. I do well when I’m caged, when I’m made mute and acquiescent—and the memory of the woods arises, and I recall what I peace I found there and brought home with me.

  The effect on my real work has been stunning…I’ve been designing my way through dozens of new products, becoming a regular, quirky, New Age Martha Stewart of shabby, eccentric New Millennium chic, everything rich in color, contrast and bizarre design. My head is so filled with ideas, I can’t stop the flood. I think this is also the fallout of my transformation as Benjamin’s sex pot, sextoy, slave girl—I never quite know what to call myself, and Benjamin really doesn’t have names for our relationship. Like me, he hates labels… and yet all those labels certainly apply. I am now successful, Textile Trading is a funky old name for a funky new enterprise and I am its creator, its driving force, its prime mover. Ben’s just in control.

  It sure makes a lot more sense to me than trying to do it all.

  Back to out kinky sex lives … Benjamin told me to strip off my clothes that morning of my first day back. I sat there stunned by the order, not because it was particularly out of context, it certainly wasn’t. It just took a few minutes to get ready, a few minutes while he went back to work as if I wasn’t even there. I finally got the gumption to do as I was told and I stripped down to my harness, thinking sad thoughts as I peeled away the hot pink stockings. They were so pretty, so goofy. Didn’t he like them? His order had nothing to do with liking or not liking my clothes; he simply wanted to inspect me. He stood me up in front of him, took great care in seeing that the piercings were healing well, then he undid the rings where they attached to the harness. “I think you need a break from this,” he said.

  “Oh, but I like it that way!” I objected.

  He glared at me, then smiled. “You let me decide,” he warned.

  “Yes, sir,” I answered dutifully.

  He then proceeded to cane me hard—twenty times across the buttocks and thighs while I was bent over a chair. I suffered through without making sound. Then with a compelling air of command, he placed his hand between my legs and played with my privates until I was gasping for breath. When I felt him move in behind me, my world exploded into the grand finale I’d been hoping for for weeks.

  This was our first real fuck since our relationship began again. His hard-on slipped inside and I must have started cumming instantly. His hands were like velvet running across my skin, every nerve in me heightened and I felt the tremendous power of him grab me up and hold me tight inside its grasp. I fell back into him, knowing that this was where I belonged. It was exactly what I’d prayed for, and my prayers had been answered.

  Afterwards, Benjamin held me close for a long time He stroked my hair and kissed my face. Then standing back, he watched me dress.

  I laughed as I stumbled trying to put the pink stockings back in place. I was even ready to give up on them, when he told me, yes, he wanted me to wear my funky stockings.

  “I love your clothes.” I think that was the first time he ever said that. “Don’t quit being you.”

>   My submission to Benjamin Hunter is no secret around the office. I wear my submission like a mantle, always dressing in some sexy way—usually with the harness in tact. Although occasionally I get a break from the constant feel of its confinement, I’d rather wear the harness than not, especially during business meetings, in front of customers, or when I need to make a presentation and really be on. It seems to curb the over-the-top behavior that leads to my downward emotional spirals. Nothing makes me feel more alive, more on, more real, more content than wearing the garments of submission, knowing I’m tethered to the man I love by something I can tangibly feel.

  While most people would never guess how I live my life, those closest to me don’t have to wonder anymore.

  Benjamin started with Sally. I really don’t think he had it in mind to do this; it was just one of those spontaneous happenings. I got caught in a lie—which implicated my faithful Sally. I really didn’t think Benjamin would make it an issue, but he did.

  He confronted the woman regarding a stack of missing invoices, which I’d taken from her desk. I planned on replacing them… well, the long and short of it, Benjamin called me into this office with Sally standing there. Both of them were fuming.

  “Bend over and raise your skirt, Dana.”

  “What!” I stared at him, I stared at her, then finally blushed realizing what was taking place.”

  “I’m really sorry, I am. I was going to replace those invoices, I swear…Benjamin… honest.”

  “Over the desk.” By the tone of this voice, I knew he wouldn’t budge from his plans no matter how much I begged or whined. “Frankly, I think that after all this time working with your faux pas, your unpleasant moods and your failed attempts to run this business, Sally would probably like to see you get what’s coming to you.”

  My whole face screwed up with a pained wince, as I went over the side of the desk and raised my skirt. It was one thing to exhibit myself in front of kinky people like us, but a woman as vanilla as Sally? My own employee? My face was red and hot with embarrassment long before my ass was. I got spanked hard, I mean really hard with a thick spanking paddle I’d never seen before. The wood was unforgiving and I whaled almost the second the first strike smacked my clenched behind. My cries continued for the next seventeen smacks—one for every blessed invoice—but it wasn’t all that necessary to be quiet, since Sally was standing right there, happily watching my punishment.

  “Now,” Benjamin said when he finally stopped. “An apology is in order.”

  I stood up, wiggled back into my skirt and while sniffing and wiping my tears with the back of my hand, I apologized.

  Sally took it all in, stoic and calm as usual, then when I was finished, her comment was quite pointed, “You know Dana, I hope this is a regular thing with you, because you sure need it.” She turned to Ben, “And if you ever need someone to fill in… you don’t have far to go to find me.”

  As Sally left the room, Benjamin could hardly contain his laughter. I was less amused, but from what the woman knew of me, her point of view was not all that off base. I’m sure she’d follow through in fine style should my master ever let her wield the paddle.

  Randall Tyler was another matter and another scene that outed me to my immediate world. He showed up a couple weeks after the Sally incident wanting to see the progress of our revived business first hand.

  “I guess your vacation did some good,” he said, as I stood in Benjamin’s new office—my former one. When I was admitted to the room, Tyler and Benjamin were sitting together apparently discussing Textile Trading.

  “Yes, my vacation was just what I needed.” I tried not to blush.

  “And you went where?” the man asked.

  I looked at Benjamin and he gave me a pointed nod. If I didn’t tell the man the truth, he would.

  “Actually, it wasn’t what you’d call a vacation at all. I resided courtesy of Benjamin and his good friend, Jud, at a cabin in the Pacific Coast mountains. It was a training of sorts…a very personal, hands-on sort of training.”

  “Oh, how interesting.”

  “You can be more specific, Dana,” Benjamin jumped in. “I think Randall deserves to know.”

  I was so nervous my palms were sweating, if only I could have sat down, but there I stood before the two—it felt more like an interrogation than a business meeting. “Well, let’s see. I was graphically reminded of my submissive nature and how living in a way that accentuates that aspect of my life is really the healthiest thing for me both mentally and emotionally. It gives me a foundation from which I do my best work. As you can see, I have been able to expand our business along with Benjamin’s guidance.”

  “And what’s the graphic part mean?” Tyler asked.

  Damn! The man just wouldn’t let it rest and by my master’s expression I knew he expected the full disclosure—at least the gist of it.

  I tried again. “It means that I have given myself over to Benjamin. He is in charge and my obedience to him is demanded. This is nothing like it was a few years ago… you see, I think the hard knocks of that time taught me that I do need Benjamin’s guidance and I’m grateful that I have a chance to have that again. And Benjamin’s a much different man now.” I could tell that he was still not hearing what he wanted, so another deep breath and I plunged into the graphic truth. “It means, Randall, that he has every right to punishment me should he find my behavior unacceptable. I have been liberally spanked and caned for my misbehavior. The training at the cabin was sort of a…boot camp… you might say.” Was I still beating around bush too much? Tired of the whole thing, I finally just spit the rest out. “I was kept naked the entire time, ordered to be silent and I slept in a cage. I followed Benjamin’s orders to the letter, worked my fingers to the bone and was punished long and hard on the bare ass with whatever implement he thought appropriate.” I looked at Ben, questioningly. “So, is that graphic enough?”

  “That’s just fine,” he answered, looking satisfied and proud of me.

  Tyler nodded his head as if all that sounded like a proper plan.

  “And is she behaving herself now?”

  “She is, for the most part.” The two stared at me. “And when she doesn’t, she knows she’ll pay. I keep her in a body harness, Randall. It’s a good reminder for a woman who can be as off-center as Dana, but I don’t think she’s complaining. And yes, the relationship goes far beyond our working environment, it is sexual, it is love, and I think we’ve finally found the right mix that will keep us together for a long, long time.”

  “Then I applaud you, Ben. You’ve done what I never believed would happen.”

  “Then only thing I’d suggest is that you knock before you enter our private offices when the doors are closed. You never know what you’re going to see.”

  “Yes, perhaps, if I’d been more informed the time before,” he turned to me, “I would have seen the situation as it was.”

  “But then, sir, you would never have brought Benjamin back to me,” I remind him.

  Benjamin looked at us both, having no idea what we were talking about. My god, I always assumed that my master knew about the incident with Locksley.

  “Would someone care to explain what you’re talking about?” he declared.

  Tyler smiled. “I’ll leave that to Dana to do that.” He stood up, shook Benjamin’s hand. “Good work. And don’t worry about me, long as you keep this girl in line, I won’t be knocking on anyone’s doors.”

  “So what was this you didn’t tell me?” Benjamin asked as soon as the man left.

  I blushed. “It was Locksley,” I said. “Tyler caught me having sex with my master in his office… in the ass sex. He had on hellava show until we finally realized he was watching.”

  Benjamin laughed. “That explains a lot of things,” he said, thinking back.

  I let it drop. Seems I’d already said enough for one day.

  And thus, every legitimate chance my master gets to reveal our secret, the secret is spelled out in
a way that the listener will accept. Sometimes the revelation is subtle, others know Benjamin as my ruthless taskmaster. Even my own friends have gotten a taste of his iron-fisted approach. I’ve been spanked in front of a few, at the very least reprimanded when it’s deserved. To their amazement, I acquiesce happily and reveal a contentedness in my spirit and the flushed cheeks of a woman in love. With their mucked-up miserable lives, they hardly have room to argue with the choice I’ve made.

  Tonight, Jud watches over me as I work. I’d stay here by myself, but Benjamin doesn’t think it’s safe, especially because all I’m wearing is the harness—not a good thing if the place got broken into or caught on fire.

  My proxy master is the same old Jud, a good ol’ boy, drinking a couple beers, and smoking his Camels while I’m on my knees sanding the floor.

  “You look good down there, kiddo,” he says.

  I look up. “Thanks.” At least I can talk.

  “How about for old time’s sake you back that ass end up to me?” he says.

  I already have my ass to him and stare back wondering what he wants. Being wise not to resist, I crawl backward until my ass is between his open legs. I bow my head submissively and expect him to be fondling my flesh, giving it a good hard smack or two, even priming my bumhole for a good screw. I guess that’s allowed, but Benjamin didn’t give me specific orders.

  My lips are nearly touching the floorboards, when I suddenly feel a hot burn on my butt. Ah! The ashtray again, I think as the pain recedes and I let go a relieved sigh.

  “You’re good for this, Dana. The best I’ve seen and I’ve used a lot of women this way.”

  “You should get your own woman,” I say as I crawl back to my sanding.