by Becky Turner
“I’m not going to fucking…”
“By boarding that plane, Ms. Pitch, you are agreeing to a few rules. You’ll call me Master. You’ll do what I say, when I say it. Don’t bother getting on that plane if you can’t follow those rules, Ms. Pitch,” he said, interrupting me. Rage boiled behind my eyelids.
“What in the world is wrong with you? I said…”
“I hope to see you tomorrow,” he said, interrupting me again. I heard a click and then the dial tone. I stood, speechless, with the phone held to my ear. Rage flowed through me…but so did desire. Master…I thought the word to myself and noted, with shame, the way it made my skin tingle and my body call out. I dropped my phone onto the coffee table and collapsed onto the sofa, head in my hands. Closing my eyes, I let my feelings wash through me. Anger, and desire, and rage, and need…
JFK airport is a busy place for a small-town girl. New York City is a scary city for someone who’s never really left her hometown. I stood, almost shaking at the knees, with my bags, and stared off into the crowd of people hugging and embracing, kissing each other, or hurrying off on their own. I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought to myself for the millionth time that day. And really, I couldn’t believe it.
The night before I had gone to bed determined to forget all about David Stevenson and his eyes and his fingers and his voice and his plane ticket and promises. But when I woke up that morning, it was like I was acting on auto-pilot. As though my mind had finally broken from the constant pressure of unfulfilled need that I had been experiencing all week.
Without really giving it a second thought, I had started packing a bag. I’d pulled on a green sundress and black heels. I’d gotten into my car, and put it into drive, and drove to the highway, and then drove to Cleveland, and then drove to the airport, and parked and went through security and waited for a plane, boarded the plane, and gotten off the plane.
I’d done all those things. But it was almost like it was someone else doing them: some other girl inside me, who was tired of being a big fish in a little pond, who wanted something more – or someone more. Looking around the terminal, I finally spotted a familiar face: the driver was standing with a sign that said “Ms. Pitch.” I made my way towards him, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Ms. Pitch, so happy you decided to come,” he said as I approached. It was funny; I’d exchanged looks with this man, been driven around by him, had even been helped, drunkenly, in and out of a limo by him, but I’d never heard him speak. His voice was soft and pleasant with a hint of an accent. I felt strangely comforted: he had a kindly face and a nice manner that made me wonder how he could possibly work for someone as stern and cold as David.
“Yeah…” I said, not really sure how to respond. I didn’t need to say much, after all; he grabbed my bag from me, grabbed my hand, and whisked me through the bustling terminal out to a waiting limo. I felt like a celebrity when I saw the Manhattan skyline in the background, being ushered into a limo by a personal driver. It was more exciting than I really wanted to admit to myself.
I didn’t help myself to the bar this time. I wanted to be on my toes, and ready to make a break for it if my senses suddenly came back to me and I realized what a mistake I was making. The limo seemed to fly down the highway, the skyline drawing ever nearer. I was overwhelmed: my first time in New York City, and it was under the strangest circumstances imaginable.
I was so overwhelmed that by the time the limo had pulled up to an extravagant, old-looking building I realized I hadn’t actually processed anything I’d seen out the tinted windows. I fidgeted nervously in my seat as the reality of what I was doing crashed down on me. There’s still time to make a break for it…I thought to myself, picturing myself running down the street and hailing a cab back to the airport.
But then the door swung open, and I was being ushered into a lavish lobby. Velvet drapes, ornate chandeliers, a marble floor, everything seemed to be whizzing past me as I was ushered, first by the driver and then by the doorman, through the building to the elevator. The doorman pushed a button that said “PH” and disappeared around the corner as the doors closed.
I panicked: I wanted to beat against the doors with my fist, to scream to let me out, to run away. But as I stared at myself in the shiny, reflective doors I began to calm down. I still had a knot in my stomach, and my eyes were glued to the rising numbers. Finally, the “PH” button lit up again and with a lurching stop, the doors spread open.
I gasped. The room that was revealed was gigantic, with huge windows overlooking the city. The furniture was minimal, but it was all made of a rich mahogany and luxurious fabrics.
Standing in the center of it all was David, hands behind his back, looking at me with a cool look on his face. As soon as I saw his eyes on mine, my heart leapt and my fears were washed from my mind. I had remembered, vividly, how cold and empty his eyes could look. Now, they were almost gleeful. I smiled modestly at him.
“I’m glad you came, Ms. Pitch,” he said, nodding at me. I stepped out of the elevator nervously. “Are you ready?”
The question confused me. Ready for what? I wasn’t sure exactly what I was supposed to be ready for. Were we just going to get right down to it? Was he even going to try and seduce me? He seemed to sense my confusion.
“For dinner,” he said, motioning into a different room. When I peered into the room, I saw it was a dining room, lavishly adorned with a Persian rug and a chandelier. The light sparkled on fine china and elegant glasses; the table was set for two. I looked back at David, my fear suddenly coming back to me.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked, the words coming out on their own. I wasn’t even really sure what I meant.
“Only what you’ll let me,” he said, his face turning from amused to concerned. “I’m not a monster, Ms. Pitch. This is not a game to me. I am not trying to win you for the evening, only to send you home…dishonored. I took good care of what’s mine. I hope you understand that. I want you to be mine, and when you are you will never want for anything. Not money, and not affection. If, of course, you decide you want to be mine.”
I looked into his eyes and could see how earnest he was. I bit my lip and nodded my head slightly, not quite agreeing to anything but wanting to open myself up to the possibility. There was a reason I had come here, and it was to find out if there was something inside me that needed this. I couldn’t turn back now. David held out his hand. I took it.
The dinner we had was even more stupendous than the one we’d had on the yacht. Oysters, risotto, an indulgent wine. David was, amazingly, very good at making me forget all about my doubts; our conversation came easily and naturally, and before I knew it I was laughing at tales of New York City life and even talking about the loss of my parents.
When I finally put my fork down and sighed, blown away by the food and the fact that I was enjoying myself vividly, I noticed David’s eyes on mine. It was clear, from the way he was looking at me, that it was finally time to put my money where my mouth was, so to speak. I took a deep breath and steeled myself. It was now or never for me: either I gave in to that part of myself I had just discovered, the one which wanted to call someone Master, or I fell apart and went back to Ohio no more satisfied than when I’d left.
“Ms. Pitch,” David said, the tone in his voice making my heart stop, “I’d like you to go into the bedroom now. And undress.”
I stared into his eyes and bit my lip. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but in that moment my whole life seemed to run through my head: my childhood, my parents, the bar, the town, my life as a good little small-town girl. I closed my eyes.
“Yes, Master,” I said, gulping. When I opened my eyes again, David stood up and gestured down the long hallway. I stood up as well and, after a moment’s hesitation, began to walk towards the rich wooden door at the end of the hall. I could feel David’s eyes on me as I walked.
When I reached the door and opened it, I could barely register t
he décor. More mahogany, more luxurious fabrics, more signs of the unimaginable wealth David had amassed in his life. I heard the door click shut behind me, but when I turned there was no one there. Taking a deep breath, I reached behind me and unzipped my dress, letting it pool around my hips.
I realized that I was getting naked in some stranger’s bedroom, and the thought actually made me excited instead of ashamed or nervous. I unclasped my bra and let it join my dress on the floor, followed quickly by my panties. I heard the door opening behind me, but before I could turn around I felt David behind me, holding my wrists together.
I felt smooth silk being draped around them, and then started when I felt them pulled together and tied. I struggled against the bind, more experimentally than anything else. The sensation of being restrained made my heart race, and my mind filled with dirty thoughts – dirtier than I’d ever allowed myself to indulge before.
Suddenly, panic rose in my as my vision was cut off. David slipped something over my eyes, a mask of some sort, that left me in pitch black darkness. The sensory deprivation was overwhelming.
“What? No, David…” I protested, struggling to raise my hands to my face and forgetting about the bind around my wrists.
“You don’t speak unless I tell you to, and you don’t call me David,” he barked back at me. I quivered, feeling myself grow weak-kneed at the authoritative tone. Despite myself, I wanted to please him. No one had ever talked to me like that, but then no one had ever looked at me the way David did, or touched me like he did, or made me feel like he did. There was a first time for everything…and as I stood there, naked, blindfolded, and tied, I knew that this wouldn’t be the last time, either.
“Yes, Master,” I whimpered.
“Too late,” James said. My breath caught in my throat. Too late? Too late for what? Was he going to punish me somehow – or, worse, was he just going to leave? With my eyesight cut off, totally blind, it was like I could feel everything with unparalleled intensity. The gentle movement of air across my body, the goose bumps raising the hair on my body, the sound of David’s breathing.
I suddenly felt David’s hand on my shoulder, and I stumbled following him. The next thing I knew, my face was pressed against something soft, the bed, and I was bent at the waist. I knew my ass was totally exposed now. With my hands tied behind my back I strained to support myself, squirming slightly.
“This is punishment for speaking without my command,” David said coolly. Punishment? My body jumped as I felt a sharp, stinging pain rush through me, accompanied by the sound of flesh against flesh. My instinct was to shriek from the bright red pain, but I bit my lip and stifled the noise. I knew that it would lead to more; and yet, they kept coming.
Each sound of David’s hand meeting my ass was accompanied by more of the same stinging, burning pain. I almost couldn’t believe what was happening; I was being treated like a bad little girl who had disobeyed her father. That wasn’t even the most unbelievable part about it, though. The most unbelievable part about it was that I was enjoying it.
Each slap still brought pain, but in between the spanks it was almost unbearable. It was like having an itch that is begging to be scratched, and every spank brought relief from the burning, itching sensation. I could feel myself pushing my ass out towards him, craving more, needing the relief that each slap brought. My ass burned and tingled, and I felt myself wanting him to spank me harder and harder each time. I felt his hand against me again, harder, and had to swallow a moan as my body pushed even further towards him, the harder slap awakening more and more desire inside me.
David landed one more intense, scathing slap against my young, plump ass before making my whole body jump with a more gentle touch. He traced his finger in a zig-zagging pattern against my sore and tingling ass, the gentle scrape of his nail against the tender flesh making me shiver slightly. All of my thoughts of disbelief had disappeared, replaced entirely by desire.
I could feel my pussy growing moist as he gently made large, looping circles across my ass with just the tip of his finger. As I felt his finger lowering towards my slit, my breath sped up and I could feel my heartbeat racing. My pussy cried out, growing even wetter as his finger gently ran along my lips. With the blindfold cutting off all my sight, every nerve in my body was amplified by a hundred and my brain felt like it was overflowing with sensation.
He slowly allowed his fingers to graze my slit and then continued on, parting my lips slightly. I tried to stifle a moan but finally had to make a noise as I felt David’s finger make the slightest contact with my engorged clit. I could feel the sheets against my face and gathered them in my mouth in order to stop myself from crying out again.
David was slowly, gently circling my clit with his finger. I could feel every fingerprint as he teased me, my body screaming for more. When I felt him pulling away, it was like my whole body wanted to follow, my clit aching for stimulation. Then I felt him grab my hips, roughly, and suddenly I was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands still tied behind me.
I felt David’s hot breath against my neck, could smell his rich cologne, as he leaned into me
“Don’t come until I tell you to, and be quiet” he whispered into my ear, each word sending tingles of pleasure through my body as his breath tickled my ear. I bit my lip to keep from sighing as I felt his lips against my neck, planting slow, gentle kisses down the sloping line of my jaw. I leaned towards him but he broke away and I felt his hands on my thighs, pushing them open, revealing my ever-moistening slit. The silk of his scarf around my wrists felt cool and slick.
I nearly cried out when I felt his warm breath against my clit. For what felt like a long time, there was no noise in the room, no sound except David’s breath and my own heartbeat racing. Each time David exhaled, my clit would jump with pleasure. I squirmed with the ache of my own need.
“Hold still,” David said, the words seeming to physically caress my pussy. Then, I felt David’s soft tongue dart out and graze my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout my body. His tongue rolled across my clit again; my body tensed as darts of ecstasy raced through me each time David’s tongue ran over the tender button.
He was tracing slow circles around my clit and I could feel my own juices gushing from my slit. My heart was racing and I strained against the binds, wanting to pull his head closer to me, to feel him harder against me. Then I cried out, unable to stand it, as I felt his teeth slightly graze my clit. As soon as I let the sound out I felt David pull away, and nearly cried again from desire.
“I told you to be quiet,” he growled. I could hear him stand up and unzip his pants as I twitched and squirmed, acutely aware of my own wetness. Then I felt David’s hands against my breasts, holding them and fondling them from underneath as his thumbs grazed my nipples. It sent shivers through my body, and I bit my lip to stifle any more noises as he began to play with my nipples, pulling at them roughly and twisting them. It hurt, but the pain seemed only to add to my own desire.
“This is punishment for making noises,” David said, his voice high above my vulnerable body. I thought he meant the way he was treating my tender breasts, the way he was pulling at my nipples, yanking them this way and that. The pain was exquisite and tantalizing. As it turns out, this was not the punishment, after all. I felt David’s hands move away from my breasts and one hand cup my jaw. He squeezed it tightly and I felt my mouth fall open.
He pulled my jaw down further so that my mouth was open wide. I felt his other hand on the back of my head, and suddenly pull me forward. I wasn’t surprised when I felt the head of his cock against my tongue, but I was surprised at its size. Even with the blindfold, I could tell that David’s cock was huge from the way the head of it filled my entire mouth. Blindly, I sucked on the head, licking around it, wanting to please him so that he would finally allow me to find release.
As I grew accustomed to the size of him, and the feeling of him in my mouth, I thought about how I’d gotten to this place. After all the stress
, all the expectations, I was actually happy to be told what to do, to be released from responsibility, to be someone’s slave. I thought the word Master to myself and the thought inflamed my desire even further. I thought about being David’s slave, about being his sex toy to use however he wanted. The thought made me eager to please, so I began sucking his cock eagerly, bobbing my head up and down on his sizable cock.
David’s grip on my head increased; to my surprise, he halted my motions. He grabbed both sides of my head and held it in place. Then, he pumped into my throat, hard, almost making me choke on the head of his cock as it slammed into the back of my throat.
I automatically struggled to free my hands, wanting to brace myself against him, but the tie was tight and I could only sit, squirming and gagging, as he thrust deeper and deeper into my throat. I could only just breathe through my nose, the sound of my desperate gasps seeming to turn David on even more as he thrust into me harder. I could feel my eyes start to water and panic rise slightly in my chest, mingling with my fervent desire to create a rush of adrenaline and yearning.
Finally, David pulled out, allowing me to finally breathe in sudden, gasping breaths. I could feel spit flying from my mouth as I desperately sucked in air.
“Do you want more?” David asked, his voice unreadable. Hell no I don’t! I thought to myself, but to my shock I found myself nodding enthusiastically.
“Say it aloud,” David growled.
“More, please, Master,” I heard myself rasp, my throat raw. In a moment my mouth was full again, David’s cock filling my throat with hard, throbbing flesh as I desperately sucked and licked it. He thrust slower this time, a little gentler, and as my panic subsided I found myself getting turned on by the way he was using me.
My pussy was gushing at this point and as much as I was getting excited by the feel of David’s cock pumping in and out of my mouth I couldn’t help but press my thighs together, trying to achieve some satisfaction before I went crazy from desire. David’s grip on my head intensified and he shoved his cock deep into my throat, holding my head against him.