Interview with a Master

by Luke, Jason

  “You intrigued me today,” she said softly. “The way you spoke in front of the apartment. It was all very mysterious.”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t mean it to be,” I said. “It’s just that there are things you need to be shown so you can write the full story. Up until now I have told you about a couple of women from my distant past that helped shape my attitude towards the BDSM lifestyle. I figured now it was time to talk about my more recent past – and in order to do that, I need to show you a room.”

  “A room?”

  I nodded. “The one next to my bedroom upstairs.”

  Leticia seemed to shiver. Her eyes were wide and unblinking. “Lead the way,” she said breathlessly.

  * * *

  I unlocked the door and pushed it open. Leticia stepped across the threshold, and the disappointment on her face and in her body language was almost comical. She turned back and looked a puzzled question at me.

  “This is the room you wanted to show me?”

  “Yes.”

  It was a normal room, with an adjoining internal door that connected it to my own bedroom and a window set into the far wall. The room was sparsely furnished; there was an antique chest of drawers on one side, and an old dressing table next to it, with a large oval mirror. On the back wall – on either side of the window – were a couple of waist-high wooden shelves, and in the middle of the carpeted floor was a table and a chair.

  The light in the ceiling was shaded, and there was a dimmer switch on the doorframe. I turned the dial to make the room a little brighter.

  “This is it?” Leticia asked again.

  “Yes,” I said simply.

  She let the strap of her handbag slip from her shoulder and walked towards the table. She set the handbag down on the floor beside the chair and walked a slow circuit of the room, the sound of her footsteps the only noise in the house.

  She went to the window and drew the drapes apart. There was a view that stretched back into the distant hills, but all she saw was darkness. She let the drapes fall back into place and turned.

  “What makes this room so special?”

  “It’s where I punish, discipline and train my submissives.”

  Leticia almost chuckled. “You’re joking – right?”

  I didn’t move. “Look at my face, Leticia. Do I look like I’m joking?”

  I was deadly serious.

  Leticia frowned. “I’m sorry, Jonah, but I… well I expected something totally different. I mean, you’re Jonah Noble, for heaven’s sake. Shouldn’t you have some dark gloomy dungeon in the basement, with whips and chains? Shouldn’t there be wicked looking torture devices and lots of leather harnesses – things like that? This room… well it looks so ordinary!”

  “You still don’t get it, do you?”

  She looked at me then, her expression confused and unsure. She threw her arms wide in a gesture of helplessness. “I guess I don’t,” she said softly. “But I want to.”

  I stalked across the floor towards her, my steps light, my eyes never leaving hers. I felt my gaze smoldering and her expression changed subtly. Her eyes became wider, not with alarm but with awareness.

  “It’s not the room that commands obedience. It’s not the props, or the décor. It’s not the fear of any piece of equipment that compels a submissive to obey, and nor is it the menace of any threat. It’s the man that a woman submits herself to, Leticia. Not the room.

  “A good Master can be standing in a crowd or standing on a bright sunny beach. It shouldn’t matter. When he speaks, it is everything he stands for and represents that induces the woman to obey him. All the fancy props, all of the intimidating atmosphere in the world can’t make a good Master, and nor can it compel a woman to obedience. The man is all that matters.”

  “So what is the point of this room?”

  “As I said – it is where my submissives are trained and punished and learn discipline. It’s a working room, not some film set from a porn movie. It serves a practical purpose.”

  She looked around the room again, trying to see it with fresh eyes. She went to the dressing table and pulled open the top drawer. There was a ball-gag, a dildo and a pair of handcuffs. That was all. In the lower drawers were several pieces of lingerie, and a riding crop.

  “What is in the chest of drawers?” she asked politely.

  “Rope and a collar.”

  She reached into the drawer and removed the handcuffs. She set them on the dresser and the clatter of the steel was loud in the silence. She set the dildo beside the handcuffs, then pushed the drawer slowly closed. Leticia picked up the handcuffs and dangled them from the tip of one finger. She looked at me with a playful, provocative smile on her lips.

  “Are these real?”

  “Yes.”

  She inspected the handcuffs carefully. “I’ve always wondered…” she confessed, and her voice trailed away.

  “Wondered what? Exactly?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve always wondered how it would feel to be handcuffed,” Leticia said. “The idea of being restrained like that kind of freaks me out, but it also fascinates me. Does that make sense?”

  “It does.”

  She tugged on the cuffs to test the links. “What is the difference between being handcuffed in front of your body and behind your body? Is there a difference?”

  I nodded.

  “I think there is. I always cuff new submissives in front of their body when we begin their training. It just gives them a little more assurance. Once the bond of trust between us builds, then I might cuff their hands behind their backs. It depends on what aspect of training I am focusing on.”

  “There are different types of training for submissives?”

  “Many,” I said. “Sometimes the session is about discipline and control. At other times it might be about obedience, or learning submissive positions. It all depends on the person, and where I feel they need to become more competent.”

  Leticia’s eyes drifted back down to the cuffs. “Do you have the key to these?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s in the bottom drawer.”

  Leticia dug in the drawer and found the key. She unlocked the cuffs. “Can I try them on?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Can I hold the key?”

  “Only if you don’t trust me.”

  She thought about that. “Will you give me the key once you have handcuffed me?”

  “Yes,” I said. “You can hold the key once the cuffs are fastened.”

  I still hadn’t moved. I stood near the window and watched her, enjoying the lithe way she moved and the sway of her hips.

  Leticia gave me a long speculative glance and then made her decision. She held out the cuffs and the key to me. I took them from her and fastened the handcuffs around her wrists. I held the small length of steel chain and raised her arms above her head. Leticia smiled, but it was edged with sudden nervousness. I felt her tremble.

  “What are you doing?”

  “This,” I said casually. I stepped close to her and lowered her cuffed arms over my head so they were wrapped around my neck and our bodies were pressed together. Leticia gasped.

  I was standing within the circle of her arms. I smiled into her face and arched an eyebrow wickedly. I took the key to the handcuffs and held it up, close to her face.

  “Open your mouth,” I ordered her softly.

  “What for?” Leticia’s voice was wary with caution.

  “So I can keep my promise,” I said smoothly. “I’m giving you back the key.”

  Leticia’s eyes flicked from my face, down to the key between my fingers, and then urgently back to my face. She opened her mouth and gave a little nervous shudder.

  I gently placed the key on her bottom lip. She closed her mouth to hold the key and stop it falling to the floor.

  “See how easy it is, Leticia? Do you see what a good Master might do to you?” I asked. “Now you are handcuffed, and we’re standing so close together that I can feel your h
eart racing and see the hectic look in your eyes. I can reach out and undress you. I can unfasten every button on your blouse, and then unhook your bra. I could suck and lick your breasts until your nipples were hard, and then reach up underneath your skirt and explore the heat between your thighs. I could slide my fingers inside your panties and tease your clit until you were whimpering and weak – and there’s nothing you can do, nothing you can say. If you open your mouth, the key will fall to the floor. You’ll never be able to pick it up again.”

  My voice as I spoke was like a soft caress, but Leticia’s eyes began to widen as the realization began to dawn on her and she understood at last how vulnerable she was: how exposed. Her panic was a shadow behind her eyes, flickering across her face like a little spark that threatened to catch fire and consume her.

  She shifted her weight anxiously

  “Will you be a good girl?” I asked softly.

  Leticia nodded her head vigorously.

  I smiled warmly, as if her answer pleased me. “And do you understand now that it is the man that matters, not any fancy room or intimidating props?”

  Leticia nodded again. She made a sound like she was humming.

  I smiled again. Then I eased myself from within the circle of her arms. Leticia put her hands to her mouth and spat the key into her palm.

  I took it from her and unlocked the cuffs. I dropped them back onto the dresser, and the noise was deliberate and brutally loud. Then I turned back to Leticia.

  “Now, after that simple demonstration, do you really want to continue with the dildo?”

  Leticia laughed, but there was a reedy tremulous shake to the sound. “You made your point,” she said and a bright flush of color spread across her cheeks. “Boy, did you make your point.”

  I put the dildo back into the drawer, but left the handcuffs where I had dropped them. I took a long deep breath, like I was closing one mental door and opening another.

  “My father died not long after I moved back from Los Angeles,” I said. “I sold the family estate and built this place. Over the next couple of years I spent time with several women – and then one day I met Caroline. She is the woman who lived with me for the past three years. She wore these handcuffs. She left six months ago.”

  Leticia turned back to me and studied my face carefully as though trying to read my expression. “I see,” she said softly. She wasn’t sure how to react.

  “Do you miss her?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Is she still involved in your life at all?”

  “No.”

  Leticia was standing beside the dressing table. I saw her eyes flicker towards her handbag, like she should be writing this down. She started to move, but I moved faster. I prowled towards her and stopped only when we were inches apart. I heard Leticia draw in a sudden snatch of breath and saw her body become tense. I could smell the fragrance of her. I could see the tiny throb of a pulse at her temple. Her lipstick was pink and glossy, so her lips looked full and ripe.

  I touched her shoulder and felt little sparks of fire shoot back up my arm.

  “Do ut des,” I simmered softly. “I want you to answer me honestly. Did you go home this afternoon and pleasure yourself on your bed, with your hand tied to the headboard?”

  Leticia swallowed, nervous, anxious. Her eyes searched mine, and then her gaze became dreamy like a sleepwalker. “Yes,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and I saw the long thick lashes interlace. She made a soft noise in the back of her throat.

  “And did you come, Leticia?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “Tell me what you fantasized about while you were laying there with your legs spread and your fingers touching yourself.”

  “You,” she said in a sob. “I fantasized about you kissing me.”

  “What kind of kisses?”

  “Light, soft and sexy,” she whispered. “Along my throat, down to my breast, and then suddenly fiercer and more urgent ones – ones that burned my skin.”

  “Ones like this…?”

  Leticia’s eyes blinked open, misty and glistening – and I kissed her.

  I took her possessively, my mouth forcing hers open so that her soft pink lips parted like flowering petals. I felt her respond. She shuddered voluptuously and there was a deep yearning moan in the back of her throat. I felt her arms wrap around my neck and her body flattened hard against my chest so that I could feel the firm resilience of her breasts beneath the sheer fabric of her top. I felt her fingers entwine themselves in the hair at the nape of my neck, and I slid one hand around the narrowness of her waist as she arched her back and pushed forward with her hips.

  I heard her gasp as she felt the hardness of me, and the heat between our bodies seemed to melt us together. I slid my tongue within her mouth and she hunted it hungrily with her own. I inhaled the scent of her, dominated her with my lips so that she bowed back from the intensity, like a tree before a rising wind.

  I could hear my blood sizzle in my veins, and I could feel the wild thump of my heart. I tightened my grip around her waist and with my other hand I cupped the side of her face, marveling in the soft smoothness of her skin.

  We broke apart for a split second – just long enough for Leticia to draw a single trembling breath – and then I kissed her again until I heard her sob weakly, as though she were drowning.

  I leaned back. Leticia’s eyelids fluttered like the beating wings of a butterfly. Her lips parted slightly in a silent gasp.

  “You took my breath away…” she marveled softly. One hand drifted to her mouth. She touched her kiss-enflamed lips with the tip of a finger as if the taste of me was still upon her, and her lip trembled, still wet and glistening.

  I stared down into Leticia’s face and the wild urgency within me faded and turned suddenly to a cold uncoiling dread. There was agony in my expression as my arm went heavy around her waist and dropped to my side.

  I took a sudden step back.

  Leticia’s eyes were desperate and bewildered.

  “Jonah…?”

  I took another step back. Suddenly the room was small and claustrophobic. I felt a thudding ache of remorse and saw the shadowy reflection of my face in the dressing table mirror. There were dark guilty smudges, like bruises, beneath my eyes that I hadn’t noticed before.

  Leticia took an urgent pace towards me. I held up my hands and she went still. “No,” I said. “I made a mistake.”

  “Mistake?” Leticia shook her head in disbelief so that her hair shimmered and swished. “No, Jonah. You didn’t. I’m glad you kissed me. I’ve been wanting you to do that for days.”

  I felt the cold seep through my body until my veins turned to ice. “You don’t understand,” I said and my voice sounded hollow and empty in my own ears. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, Leticia. I brought you here to write my story – not to make you part of it.”

  Leticia looked close to tears. Her eyes misted. “But I wanted it!”

  I shook my head dismissively. “You don’t know what you want. You think you want this lifestyle – and maybe you do,” I said, my tone remote. “But you don’t want me. Believe me. I’m not the man you want in your life.”

  She reached a hand out towards me. It fluttered in the air and then fell back to her side like a wounded bird. Her face was filled with anguish and sudden despair. Leticia was shaking her head slowly from side to side. Her eyes brimmed with tears, making them seem huge and glistening. She sobbed in a sharp breath, and a single teardrop spilled down her cheek.

  I looked away. I felt the shutters lower over my eyes and my gaze became distant.

  Bastard.

  I thrust my hands into my pockets as though to restrain myself.

  Leticia’s mouth twisted in distress. “Jonah – please,” she pleaded. “Please talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong. Did I not kiss you well enough? I’m sorry! I’m not very experienced… and I’ve never been with a man like you. If you give me another chance…”

  I shook my
head. She wrung her hands and I felt her trying to reach out to me. “Did you want more? I can give it to you, Jonah. Just give me some time to –”

  I backed towards the door. I held it open. “I think you should go,” I said coldly. “If not for your sake, then please, do it for me.”

  * * *

  It rained the next day. Dark sullen clouds swept in from the west and blanketed the mountains so that the sky was grey and cold and bleak. Rain swept across the ranges in grey misting curtains, and the driveway filled with puddles as downpours burst upon the roof and echoed through the empty rooms.

  I sat in the study. The drapes were drawn. Flames leaped from the fireplace flickering and crackling with light and sparks, but still I was cold. It was a cold that no warmth could reach – a cold deep in my bones.

  I sat in the study, sifting through documents and paperwork that had accumulated on my desk, picking at them the way a man with no appetite picks at food.

  I heard the phone ring downstairs, echoed an instant later through the extension phone on the side-table next to the big leather chair. I looked at the phone, listened to it ring – waited for it to stop, suddenly frozen as though the slightest move might somehow reveal me.

  When the work was done, I went to the fireplace and threw another log onto the flames. It burst in a flare of sparks, and I drew myself to my feet like a weary old man and began to slowly pace the room.

  The phone rang again an hour later. I stood in the shadows and watched it until the sound was cut off abruptly, and I was left alone in the silence.

  The specter of Trigg’s warnings hung over me like a gloomy pall, seeming like a burden I had failed to carry. She knew me so well. She knew me like no other woman ever had; my fears, my frailties. And yet she didn’t really know me at all.

  Not Jonah Noble, the man.

  The phone rang again and my hand reached for it, hanging in the air an inch above the receiver so that I could almost feel the urgent vibration of it. I hesitated.

  Then I picked the phone up.