Yes, Master!

by Reese Gabriel

  Rave played with her, pulling back, making her work for it. She offered little mewling sounds, a good girl, a good pet, a good cock-sucker. She leaned forward, extending her tongue. At one point he pulled out and slapped her cheeks, one after the other, the thick shaft hard like molten steel on her skin. It was the ultimate humiliation, the ultimate crowning.

  “Get on the floor, Lee,” he ordered. “On all fours.”

  “Yes, Master.” She lowered herself, animal that she was.

  He came at her from behind, slamming his cock home. He growled, pushing her so hard she went down on her elbows. It was a savage fucking, a brutal taking. Liandra curled her toes and took it. She began to spasm almost at once, a wanton slut orgasming in spite of brutality—even because of it.

  Rave extracted his cock in the middle of her throes. She was left abandoned, her pussy clenching helplessly at the empty air. He went around to her front and lifted her by the scalp. Gripping his dick, he jerked himself, efficiently, possessively on her face and breasts. She took his load, a grateful slave.

  “Now it’s nighty night time,” he announced.

  Liandra crawled under command to her bedroom, the man at her side. The come was drying on her skin. She smelled the faint odor; a reminder of his subtle brutality.

  Rave took her bed, putting her on the floor beside it. He tossed her a pillow and a blanket. “Don’t say I never gave you nothing.”

  For some reason the remark struck her as funny.

  She slept like a baby the whole night.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rave was gone when Liandra awoke. She might have thought it was all a dream, except for the semen residue on her skin. She cleaned herself thoroughly, the equivalent of two or three showers worth of water. Everything was very robotic, mechanical. It was Friday, she thought about her responsibilities, the sites she needed to visit. There was the Union Bank Building; initial drawings to be completed and a meeting at ten with representatives of a medical center looking for designs for an expansion.

  She wished that Rave were around, to drink coffee with or talk a little. She convinced herself his absence was a kind of punishment, a BDSM bonding experience between them. She’d strayed, she was a bad girl. She needed deprivation so she’d be all that hungrier and hornier a bitch when he came back to her, a mere snap of the fingers or a look enough for her to surrender all pride.

  Pretty much on auto pilot, she conducted her day, wearing a navy skirt suit, navy pumps, her hair tied back severely. Somewhere outside of herself like a ghost hovering, she watched, evaluated. Who was the woman speaking so eloquently, demonstrating such expertise, wowing over her potential clients? Did they have any idea who she was inside?

  Check out the marks from the belt, she wanted to tell them, look at the bruises. I’ll even show you the breasts, where he spewed his semen. But all of that was secret, deliciously, sexily secret.

  It was after four when she finally dared to look at the piece of paper.

  The one from Virgil. It was folded over. To her surprise it had an address on it, no phone number. Was this the place where he was staying? He’d said that the people there would know how to find him. What did that mean?

  She was still sitting at her desk thinking on the matter when her cell phone rang.

  It was Rave.

  Her spine shivered, like hot ice poured down her back. “This is Liandra,” she said, trying to keep it professional.

  “Is that how you greet your owner, cunt?”

  Liandra hurried over to close her office door to keep the conversation out of earshot of her intern Barry and her part-time assistant Valerie. “Rave...Master,” she said huskily. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ll be punished for that.”

  “Yes, Master.” Her voice held resignation, trepidation...and terrible arousal.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked.

  She described her outfit, the skirt suit and blouse.

  “Are you alone? Not that I care.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “In the office?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Good. We can have fun.”

  Fun for him, maybe...

  “Take your clothes off, we’ll get started.”

  Liandra swallowed. “But...my staff is here, right outside my office.”

  Rave turned nasty. “Keep arguing, bitch and I’ll have you open the door and invite them in. Is that what you want?”

  “No, Master,” she replied, cowed.

  “Then get naked now!”

  “I—I have to put down the phone.” She set it awkwardly on the desk and took off her jacket. Her nipples had long since peaked under the blouse. As she unzipped her skirt and let it slide down, she could feel the liquid heat between her thighs. What was he going to make her do? How far would he go?

  She unbuttoned her blouse, letting it fall on top of the skirt. Her underwear followed. Her panties were sopping wet. She stepped from them, feeling a tingling in her bare ass. The last thing to go was the bra...and the shoes. Bare feet touching down on the carpet, she picked up the phone.

  “Master?”

  “Did you do what I asked?” he wanted to know.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “I want you to get up on the desk now, legs over the edge, thighs wide apart.”

  “Yes, Master.” Like a repeating record, the words playing over and over in the air.

  “I’m on the desk, Master...” she informed him.

  “Your legs are wide apart?”

  She assured him they were.

  “Smack your pussy,” he ordered. “Make it hurt.”

  Liandra attempted, just missing. “Ouch, Master.”

  “Stop fucking around.”

  She leaned back and slapped her palm against the nether opening, soft and vulnerable, hot and glistening. She moaned from deep in her throat.

  “Again,” he commanded.

  The pain was deep, intense. “Please, Master,” she whimpered.

  He made her hit herself twice more, until she was in tears. “Lick your hand clean.”

  She lapped the come from her fingers, rich and pungent. When her fingers were clean he made her bite them. She clamped hard. The scream was absorbed by flesh and bone.

  Rave laughed. “You really are a pain slut, you know that?”

  “When will I see you again?” she breathed.

  “Desperate little cunt, aren’t you.”

  “Yes, Master.” No point in trying to salvage any of her pride. What little she might have had belonged to him now...to her Master.

  “Make yourself come,” he ordered.

  Liandra plunged her fingers obediently. She groaned, clenching them with her pussy muscles. Almost immediately the shock waves came, wracking her body. It was a gritty, low, dirty orgasm, the sort of orgasm only whores and slaves can experience.

  He made her come again. This one was deeper, more primal, but no less hard hitting—like a sucker punch to her libido. “Oh, Master,” she sighed afterwards, “that was...mind blowing. Did I please you?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said sarcastically. “Master is so proud.”

  It was that added, extra little sting of his voice that made the whole experience so satisfying, like an icing of humiliation over an otherwise bland cake. “Thank you, Master.”

  “I have a little treat for you now, slave.”

  “Yes, Master?”

  “I’m going to give you a chance to show me how devoted you are.”

  “I’m completely devoted, Master...”

  “We’ll see about that,” he dismissed. “I want you to go to a bar. Get yourself a drink, make yourself available. Wait for the first man to come along. That’s the one you’re going to give yourself to. Completely. You’ll let him do what he wants to your body, for as long as he wants.”

  “Will you be watching?” she asked.

  “That’s not your concern, is it?”

  “No, Master.”

  “I want your pretty litt
le ass out of that office. Get dressed, get out.”

  He thought she was pretty...part of her at least.

  “Yes, Master.”

  Rave clicked off. Gone, until he felt like coming back into her life again. If that wasn’t power, what was? If that wasn’t mastery...the ultimate domination...what was? He lived in her head; he made things happen...he made her happen.

  She dressed robotically, though her hands shook. Her body tingled in anticipation. She spoke some words to Barry and Valerie, answered their questions, wished them a nice weekend. Barry wanted to know if she was all right.

  “I’m fine,” she said, willing herself to be so.

  What bar should she choose? Nothing close to the office; she was known in that area and she might want to go back, entertain clients or enjoy a casual drink with someone. She didn’t pick up men in bars and she didn’t want to get that kind of reputation.

  She drove for a while, taking one of the main boulevards south. Traffic was picking up, everyone anxious to begin their weekend. Any number of establishments offered themselves, beer signs in the window, glowing neon, the names above suggesting all the good times to be had.

  Liandra settled on a place called the Thirsty Tail, whatever that meant.

  It was an older place, with wood floors and a long wooden bar, shellacked. The metal stools were topped in red, a layer of glossy leatherette. There were a handful of tables in back and a dart board on the wall.

  Several men were playing pool, men in rolled up sleeves, ties long since discarded. They looked vaguely out of place. A man at the bar was slumped over his whisky, full of some kind of torment. An old Stevie Wonder song played on the jukebox. The bartender was female, blonde, washed out, a long braid down her back.

  Liandra glanced at the group playing pool. A wave of hot weakness overcame her. One of them would most likely be fucking her...whichever one had the gumption to approach her first.

  Or would it be more than one?

  She ordered a white wine. She felt naked, she felt like a slut.

  Was she supposed to encourage them? She took a sip, keeping her back to the pool table. I’m not any kind of seductress, she thought. Suppose none of them want me. Rave will be upset, he’ll punish me, or worse he’ll finally leave me the way he’s always threatened. She could just hear him now.

  “I told you no one would want your bony ass, Lee, I don’t know why I kept coming back over and over. If you didn’t suck cock and cook halfway decent, you’d be worthless...”

  “Hey...”

  Liandra jolted at the sound of the voice, smooth and masculine. It was one of the pool players. “H—hi,” she replied, trying to smile naturally.

  The man had a lean waist, square shoulders. His rolled up shirt was white, his forearms tanned. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons, he wore no undershirt. His chest was solid. He probably worked out a lot. His face was not exactly handsome, but he had nice, dark hair and intense blue eyes. All in all, not bad, with those full lips and sculpted cheeks.

  Not that it mattered. The choice wasn’t hers. If he wanted, he could have her, however he wanted, for as long as he wanted.

  Imagine if he knew that; the kind of slut and slave she was. What tortures might she be in for?

  “I’m Kyle,” he said, sticking out his hand.

  She felt his warm grasp, firm, not harsh. “I’m Lee...”

  “Nice to meet you, Lee. May I buy you another?” He pointed to the wine glass, half empty.

  She nodded, dry mouthed. And so it began...

  “If you don’t mind my saying, Lee, you seem out of place,” he said as the fresh wine arrived along with a bourbon, neat, for him.

  Exactly what she’d thought about him and his buddies...

  “I’ve never been here before,” she said woodenly.

  “Please don’t be insulted, I didn’t mean anything bad,” he told her.

  She watched him drink his bourbon. He was the kind of man who could grow on a woman. Her stomach tightened as she noticed the wedding band. Maybe he wasn’t so noble after all.

  “I’m not insulted. I don’t even know you, there isn’t anything you could say one way of the other to affect me,” she replied.

  “Fair enough.” He signaled for another bourbon. “You have man troubles, don’t you?”

  His perspicacity startled her. “I’m sure that’s none of your business.”

  “I know it’s not,” he acknowledged, his voice soothing her in spite of her wariness. “But I’m asking anyway.”

  She flipped her hair back. “You think you can make me talk because you bought me wine? I’m not for sale...”

  Actually, it was worse than that...she was available for free.

  “I couldn’t afford you if you were.”

  She bit her lower lip. Shit, why did he have to compliment her? Things were going to get complicated. Don’t be nice, she wanted to scream, just fuck me, use me and get it over with.”

  “Shouldn’t you be home with your wife?” said Liandra.

  “My wife’s dead.”

  Lee’s moorings yanked out from under her. “Oh...I...I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want pity,” Kyle shook his head. “You asked me a question, I answered it. I’m not in the habit of lying...not to women, anyway.”

  “How...how did she...?” Liandra couldn’t get the words out.

  “Cancer. Two years, three months. The counselors say I shouldn’t wear the ring anymore; I’m supposed to emotionally re-invest, whatever the hell that means.”

  “They’re wrong,” said Liandra with a confidence she couldn’t pinpoint. “You need to mourn in your own way, you have to...remember.”

  Something in his eyes lit up. “Yes...that’s right.”

  He seemed to be seeing her in a new way.

  This was weird. What if he actually liked her? Would he still try and score? She had to know more about his motives.

  “Kyle?”

  “Uh huh?”

  “Why did you come over here, really?” She was testing his honesty in a big way.

  He smiled, faraway, a little pained, and a little mysterious. “I don’t know exactly. Well, I do have one reason...but I’m a little embarrassed about that.”

  Lee laughed. “What, did you bet your buddies you could get me in the sack?”

  She couldn’t believe she was being so straightforward with this man she hardly knew. She just felt so comfortable with him, like she’d known him a long time.

  He winced slightly. “Not exactly. But they did bet me I wouldn’t have the guts to come talk to you. They mean well. They want me to get out of myself and start meeting people. If it’s any consolation, it was an easy bet to win. You’re the kind of person I’d talk to on my own.”

  “Thanks.” She felt a flush in her cheeks. “I think.”

  “So...” He drew a deep breath. “I guess it’s time for the big question.”

  Perched on the bar stool, turned toward him, she spread her legs slightly, almost unconsciously. She was moist...for him. “Don’t tell me.” Her voice was husky, ripe. “You want to know what’s a girl like me doing in a place like this?”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Do I seem that corny?”

  “No,” she assured. “Far from it.”

  He was standing so close. She could reach for his waist. He had a fresh, thick, black leather belt. She wished he was a dominant. She’d fall down on her knees and kiss his shiny shoes, right here in front of his friends. Then she’d take out his dick and give him the blow job of his life.

  “Thanks,” he accepted her praise. “I just don’t peg you as a bar type, that’s all.”

  “What type am I?”

  “You’re a one man woman,” he said, leaving no room for doubt.

  “How can you know something like that?” Liandra felt guilt; she was a crime ridden slut, a man fucking, multiple partner slut. She was not even here of her own accord. Another man was making her do this just to prove she was lower than a whore.


  “I just do.” He shrugged. “I can see into people. One of the by products of the grief. My whole world was crushed, no dreams, no facades, so I am not fooled by anyone else’s.”

  Liandra sensed his pain, the wisdom born of agony. “Are you saying love is a waste?”

  “You’re not in love.”

  “I didn’t say I was.”

  The smile returned. She felt mocked. “You’re fooling yourself, Lee.”

  Liandra rose from the barstool. She’d find another for quick sex. “Thank you for the wine, I need to be going.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said you don’t need to go anywhere. You’re just running. Aren’t you tired of that?”

  “I’m tired of you,” she proclaimed. “Good night.”

  He caught up to her at the door. “Lee, wait. I’m sorry.”

  She turned around. Next thing she knew she was in his arms...kissing him. It wasn’t planned. Had she initiated it? She thought so...

  He molded her lips to his. It was electricity...it was phenomenal.

  “Lee...”

  She breathed against him, naked in her desire. “Take me,” she said before he could end it all with a practical word. “Take my body.”

  “It’s too sudden,” he objected.

  She felt for his cock, hard as steel, protruding from his pants. “Do I have to beg, Kyle? Because I will...”

  “A woman like you should never beg.”

  “Unless she wants to...”

  His hand strayed to her hip. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said throatily.

  “So use me,” she hissed, feeling like princess and whore wrapped into one. “I’m a good lay...or so I’m told.”

  He grasped her wrist, taking it away from his crotch. “You’ve got a colorful mouth for a lady.”

  It wasn’t an accusation...

  “Your cock doesn’t seem to mind.”