The telephone relationship with KT continued for over a fortnight. During that time he refused to answer any questions or engage in any manner of polite conversation with her. Whenever she answered the phone the sound of his voice was the signal for her to supply aural sex, on demand. She suspected it was not so much the content of her stories that excited KT, as the knowledge that he was using and controlling her like a mechanical toy and she was meekly playing along.
Just when she was growing impatient with the game, he decided she had at last earned her reward. It was time for a face-to-face meeting.
Chapter 4
Constance felt her palms sweating on the steering wheel as she piloted the Porsche along a ribbon of dark tarmac, lined on both sides by trees. In a few more minutes she would be meeting the man who had succeeded in stripping her mind bare and probably already knew her better than she knew herself. It was not what he might do to her that made her nervous, but rather how she might react to him. What if he did not live up to the image his voice had painted in her mind? What if he were old, fat, ugly, or even somehow deformed? As she had never seen him, it was entirely possible she had allowed her mind to be seduced by a monster.
The house at the end of the long driveway was an imposing structure, with ivy covered walls and huge windows that seemed to glare balefully at the outside world. Constance parked her Porsche and lit a calming cigarette before getting out. Her heart pounded almost as loudly as her pink stiletto heels as she ascended the five stone steps to the front porch. She glanced at her wristwatch before ringing the doorbell. Fifteen minutes late. Not a good start.
Moments later the door was opened and she was greeted by a grey-haired figure in the uniform of a butler.
‘I’m Constance Brooking,’ she began. ‘I’ve—’
‘The master is waiting for you,’ he interrupted tersely. ‘Please follow me.’
The butler led her down a long, gloomy corridor, lined with surrealistic paintings. It reminded her of a charmless gallery she had once visited. He knocked on one of the stout oak doors at the far end and a voice bade them enter.
Constance followed him through the door and found herself in a library. Standing behind an ornate desk was a tall, slender man in his late thirties, with a flowing mane of jet black hair and a neatly groomed goatee beard. She was greatly relieved by his handsome features and high cheekbones, though unnerved by the intensity of the emerald green eyes that peered through his tinted spectacles.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she blurted. ‘This place wasn’t as easy to find as I thought.’
‘Address me as master,’ he snapped, in the voice that had become familiar. ‘And put out that filthy cigarette. Only whores and cheap sluts smoke in the presence of gentlemen, and I trust you are neither.’
‘Sorry, master,’ Constance said hastily. Blushing, she looked around for an ashtray, found none, walked across to the empty fireplace and discarded her cigarette. She was conscious of the two men watching her and glanced uncomfortably at the butler.
‘You need not concern yourself with Matthews,’ her master told her. ‘He is fully aware of who and what you are.’ He beckoned imperiously. ‘Come, kneel before my desk.’
Quivering with a mixture of shame and excitement, she approached the desk. As she fell to her knees she noticed a closed circuit TV camera high on the wall to her left.
‘Are we being watched, master?’ she asked.
He planted both palms on the top of his desk and leant forward to study her. ‘My, aren’t you the curious one? What would you say if I were to tell you to mind your own damned business?’
‘I would say, please pardon my impudence, master,’ she responded.
He smiled thinly. ‘Your impudence is pardoned, slave. It is natural that you should be curious, of course, so let me explain a few things. Firstly, though you may have been under the impression that you have been sharing your most intimate fantasies only with me, that would not be strictly true.’ He nodded to the butler. ‘Sound please, Matthews.’
The manservant slid open a wall cabinet and pressed the play button on the hi-fi system inside. Seconds later, Constance was horrified to hear her own sultry tones wafting from a pair of speakers on the wall.
‘Master, there is something I’ve been longing to tell you – something I thought I would never tell another person. It’s one of my favourite fantasies. When I think about it, it’s so exciting, but talking about it, even to you, is making me blush.’
‘Unburden yourself, Constance,’ urged the silken tones of KT. ‘If you are to be my slave, you can have no secrets from me. Tell me your fantasy in every detail. Imagine you are an erotic artist. My mind is the canvas, your words the brushes and paints you will use to create a masterpiece that we shall both treasure.’
She cleared her throat, then began speaking, hesitantly at first. ‘It’s one of those freak tropical summer nights, hot and muggy, with rain bucketing down. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep – and not just because of the heat. The sound of the rain beating against my window is making me horny. I don’t know why such a commonplace sound should have such an effect on me, but it does.
‘After a while I decide to go for a drive, wearing nothing but an ankle-length raincoat. I haven’t consciously planned what I’m going to do next. It just seems to happen naturally. I drive to this secluded spot I know, getting hotter and hornier with every mile. It’s way past midnight, so there’s nobody about. I park the car, throw off my raincoat and skip and dance around the field, giggling like a naked lunatic, illuminated by the headlights. I can’t describe the feeling of the warm rain on my skin and the sense of utter freedom. It’s just so sexy! When I’m thoroughly drenched, I roll around on the grass and masturbate, opening my legs like a bitch in heat. At that point I don’t care if somebody comes along and thinks they’ve found someone that’s escaped from an asylum. I have escaped from an asylum, in a manner of speaking and, God, am I enjoying it!
‘I fuck myself with two fingers, thrusting deep into my slit, until I orgasm. Afterwards I just lie back on the grass and let the rain bathe me. It’s only when I decide to go home that I discover I’ve locked myself out of my car.’ Her breathing became heavier. ‘Imagine: it’s late at night, pouring with rain and I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere, naked and completely helpless. What can I do? I can hardly go looking for a phone in this state. What if some man comes along and finds me? I’d be completely at his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted with me, force me to do anything. There’s no way I could resist.
‘I’m still trying to decide what I should do when a car pulls up a short way down the road and a man gets out. He must have seen my lights. As he starts to walk towards me a second man emerges from the car, then another. There are four of them coming towards me, all big and mean-looking. I know they have no intention of helping me. These are the kind of men who think of only one thing when they see a woman.
‘I try to run, but they’re too fast for me. When they catch me I scream and kick, but they’re much too strong. They overpower me easily, then the first one takes me while the others hold me down on the wet grass. He’s rough. The others encourage him to screw me harder. I scream and beg for mercy at the top of my voice but they don’t care. Nobody can hear me.
‘The four of them take me, one after the other, but even then they’re not finished with me. I’m forced to kneel and suck their big cocks while they laugh at me and call me the most obscene names. I’ve never been so humiliated or felt so dirty. After I’ve sucked the four of them off and swallowed their come, two of them drag me through the mud, while the other two beat me on the bottom and thighs with their studded leather belts. One of them wants to have me again, but the others tell him not to degrade himself, pointing out that I look like a pig, covered from head to foot in mud. They leave me lying there and drive off laughing. Can you picture it, master?’
‘Oh, yessss,’ KT bre
athed.
He signalled for Matthews to switch off the tape. Constance was not easily embarrassed, but right then she was blushing to the roots of her blonde hair. She had never dreamt that he might record her candid confessions.
‘Is this the only one you taped?’ she asked quietly, hastening to add the word ‘master’.
‘What do you think, my dear slave?’ he replied. ‘Now, prepare yourself for a further shock. I haven’t just been recording your fantasies. I’ve been sharing them, too.’
‘Sharing them?’ she cried.
He nodded. ‘With some trusted members of The Master’s Masque, as well as my S/M-FM colleagues. They have found your revelations most interesting. By speaking to me on air that night you took your first step on the path to enlightenment. By coming to the club and sharing more of your fantasies, you proved that you were not just a cheap voyeur.’
‘But, master, I trusted you!’ Constance wailed, instantly reviling herself for sounding like a spoilt little girl.
‘Did I, at any stage, lead you to believe you were sharing your fantasies with me alone?’ he demanded, stepping from behind his desk.
‘No,’ she blurted. ‘But…’
‘Enough of your pathetic play-acting,’ he snapped. ‘I can hardly be blamed for your jumping to conclusions. I thought you had the makings of a genuine slave, but perhaps I was mistaken. You seem unable to accept the first and most golden of rules – that of unquestioning obedience to the will of your master. Get out of my house and stop wasting my time.’
‘No master, please don’t reject me,’ she wailed, gazing imploringly up at him. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, I swear.’
‘I am not a patient man,’ he warned. ‘However, I am prepared to give you one more chance.’ He slid open a top drawer of his desk, produced a long, slender cane and whacked the desktop so hard that Constance jumped. ‘Take off your jacket and blouse and hand them to Matthews!’ he barked.
She reacted hurriedly, anxious not to further displease him. She handed the jacket of her pink silk two-piece suit to the butler, then hurriedly unbuttoned her blouse. He dutifully eased it off her shoulders and took it from her. Underneath, she was wearing a bra of shimmering ivory-coloured silk. The half-cups snugly embraced and uplifted her firm round breasts.
Her master stroked the generous display of creamy cleavage with the tip of his cane, watching her nipples swelling against the fabric of her bra. He then ordered her to unzip her skirt. Feeling as though she were starring in one of her own erotic fantasies, she unhesitatingly obeyed. The pink silk pooled around her knees. Her knickers, cut high on her hips and only partially covering her firm buttocks, matched her bra, as did her silk stockings and suspenders.
Constance thrust out her chest and basked in the admiration of her master. She was justifiably proud of her long-limbed, perfectly formed body, and had delighted in making men’s mouths water for as long as she could remember. She shuddered as the tip of the cane glided down her belly, over her silk-sheathed mound and in between her thighs. Her hands were poised, ready to unclasp her bra at the front, even before her master uttered the command.
Matthews slid the straps down over her arms and draped her bra over his right arm, along with the other items of her clothing. Her nipples were like bullets shooting from cocoa-shaded areolae. The butler could not resist licking his lips, even though the demeanour of the master remained impassive. The cane traced the outline of her slit and she felt a warm dampness in her knickers. Almost unconsciously, her hands cupped her breasts.
‘Did I give you permission to play with yourself?’
Her master’s shout was like a bucket of icy water. Constance’s hands could not have leapt from her breasts any quicker if they were red hot.
‘Lesson number two. You do not pleasure yourself without my permission,’ he told her. ‘As your master, I must have complete control over your sexuality. Do you understand?’
‘Of course, master,’ she answered. ‘Please forgive me.’
‘Forgiveness must be earned,’ he said sternly. ‘I’m tempted to cane you but, as you have not yet been accepted as my slave, that would be an inappropriate honour. You may lick my boots instead.’
Crouching down before him, her bottom raised for the delectation of Matthews, she eagerly ran her tongue over KT’s calf-high black leather boots. Her knickers rode up into the cleft of her buttocks, leaving the splendid milky globes on full display. In her state of high arousal she would have welcomed either her master’s cock or cane, but she was not yet worthy of either.
When she had licked every inch of his boots, he ordered her to sit on his desk and masturbate. She adopted the required position, hooking her high heels on the edge of the desk, with her knees drawn up and her thighs wide apart. She then slipped her right hand down the front of her knickers and penetrated her soaking slit with two fingers. The two men watched intently, their bulges at their groins swelling ever more prominently. It took less than a minute for her to finger herself to an orgasm that took her breath away. Afterwards, she sucked her sticky fingers clean, without any need to fake the pleasure of the task.
She considered begging her master to take her, in any way he pleased, but then realised that that would be disrespectful. Nevertheless, when he curtly instructed her to get dressed again there was no concealing her disappointment. The butler poured him a cognac from a crystal decanter and handed it to him. Constance was not offered a drink.
‘Now, to business,’ he announced, returning to his chair. ‘As I said already, I’m not the only person who has enjoyed listening to your fantasies. You have more to offer The Master’s Masque than just your delectable body. I have a new show in mind for S/M-FM, something I know our listeners will love. Slave in the Hot Seat, every Saturday from one until three a.m. You’ll be the perfect presenter.’
‘Me?’ Constance cried. ‘But I know nothing about radio. I can’t—’
‘What you need to know can quickly be learnt,’ he interrupted. ‘Come with me. I’d like you to see the nerve-centre of the nation’s most subversive radio station for yourself.’
The ‘station’ was located in a small room at the rear of the house and consisted of little more than the broadcasting essentials. Constance was somewhat disappointed. She had imagined the headquarters of S/M-FM as a well-equipped dungeon in the bowels of The Master’s Masque club.
‘We’ve been broadcasting for four months and haven’t been raided yet… touch wood,’ KT told her. ‘The fewer people know about this place the better – so not a word to anyone.’
She nodded. ‘Of course. But there’s something about all this that puzzles me. You, the club, and all the others involved in it are surrounded by such secrecy – yet you risk it all by running a pirate radio station.’
‘I like to live dangerously,’ he answered. ‘How about you?’
‘What if I refuse to be your Slave in the Hot Seat?’ she asked.
KT smiled. ‘But you’re not going to refuse, are you?’
The following Saturday, just after one a.m., Constance the respectable businesswoman became a bona-fide pirate broadcaster, identifying herself only by her initials. KT had done little to assuage her nervousness beforehand, reasoning that it made her sound all the more authentically submissive. He stood behind her, menacingly brandishing a cane. G had helped her to prepare a rough script, but she was otherwise on her own. If her show was a success, the master had promised her an unspecified reward. Should she disappoint him, she would be severely punished.
‘Hi, my name is CB, and I’m your Slave in the Hot Seat,’ she began, trying to forget that an audience was listening to her every word. ‘I’d first like to thank my master for giving me this opportunity to become the first woman to have her own show on S/M-FM. I sincerely hope I shall not disappoint him, or indeed you. I know there are many masters listening right now, eager to hear my confessions and tell me
their fantasies. Please call and permit me to submit to you, otherwise my master shall be severely displeased and I will be punished. Is there something you would like me to do for you, something you would like to do to me? Your wish is my command.’
A tap of KT’s cane on her bare right shoulder reminded her to give out the number to call. She then began to describe herself in sensual detail, changing only the colour of her hair and eyes, in the hope of avoiding recognition. She added that she was wearing only high heels, black lace bra and panties. That was not a lie.
To enhance her sense of vulnerability KT had ordered her to strip down to her underwear before going on air. She was sitting on a hard wooden stool with her legs spread wide apart. She would be required to remain thus until the end of the show.
She did not have to wait long for her first caller – a plummy-toned gentleman who demanded that she address him as ‘sir’. He remembered her from her previous on-air call to KT and ordered her to tell him what had happened on her visit to The Master’s Masque. She detailed the events that had taken place in the darkroom, and her own feelings throughout the erotic ordeal.
‘I was one of those men you entertained while you were handcuffed,’ the caller said when she had finished.
Constance was too surprised to reply. Whether or not he was telling the truth, she would never know.
Her next caller admitted a fantasy of his own, in which Constance was the helpless victim in his dungeon. She made what she thought were all the right noises as he detailed how she was chained to a rack, whipped, caned, and then shaven of her pubic hair. When KT judged her cries to be less than whole-hearted, he struck the exposed upper half of her buttocks with his cane. The greatest shock of all was how much she enjoyed it.
Within a short while she found herself entering into the spirit of the show and responding enthusiastically to the explicit fantasies of her callers, urging the more reserved of them to treat her as the submissive slut of their dreams, to be used for their total pleasure. One particular master, who identified himself as Ron, wished to take the game a step further.
All for Her Master Page 4