‘So you see, I have no choice but to break off all contact with you and everybody else associated with S/M-FM,’ she finished. ‘This bastard doesn’t make idle threats.’
‘Seemingly not,’ KT agreed, pensively stroking his chin. ‘But even if you do cut yourself off from us, there’s no guarantee he’ll leave you alone. He may have more photographs or bits of incriminating evidence. If you refuse to do as he says, S/M-FM will most definitely get busted and he’ll probably have you arrested anyway, just out of sheer spite.’
‘So you’re saying I have no choice but to become his slave?’
‘What I’m saying is, we have to find another way of dealing with him.’
‘Can you think of one?’
‘I will,’ he assured her. ‘Don’t worry, Detective Inspector Mountjoy isn’t going to put either of us out of business.’
Constance wished she could share his optimism, but just being able to unburden herself made her feel slightly better. At least she was no longer alone in her predicament. Some time later KT glanced at his watch and announced that he had better be going.
‘Do you have to?’ she pleaded, rising to her feet. ‘I mean, couldn’t you at least stay a little while longer?’
‘Gina will be wondering what’s happened to me.’
‘You’re her master; she’ll understand,’ Constance insisted. ‘I… I really don’t want to be alone tonight, thinking about that creep.’
‘You sound like a frightened little girl,’ he smiled. ‘You wouldn’t be trying to seduce me, now would you?’
She fell to her knees and gazed imploringly up into his dark eyes. ‘And if I were, master?’
‘Then I should be tempted to take advantage of you when you were at your most vulnerable,’ he replied carefully, moving towards her.
He cradled her head in both hands and she pressed her face to the crotch of his tight blue jeans, feeling his cock stir within. Though sex had been the furthest thing from her mind when she had opened the door to him, her body now ached for him. This was the kind of comforting she required, and KT was not going to deny it to her.
She unzipped his jeans with her teeth and freed his cock with her fingers. If he thought her behaviour pathetic, so be it. Kneeling before a master she actually wanted was a refreshing antidote to the bitterness she felt towards the Stablemaster. The tip of her tongue lashed eagerly at the eye of KT’s cock. He stroked her hair and thrust gently against her face, urging her to take him in her mouth. Constance was all too eager to oblige.
Several hours later, their mutual lust sated, he reluctantly disengaged himself from her perspiration-sheened body. She sat up and watched him get dressed, the taste of him still fresh in her mouth.
‘I have a plan for dealing with our mutual friend,’ he said as he buttoned up his shirt.
‘What?’ she cried excitedly, leaping naked from the bed.
‘Come to my place tomorrow night and all will be revealed.’
A further eight days passed before the Stablemaster contacted her again, just when she was beginning to hope he had lost interest. She agreed, without hesitation, to meet him that night.
‘You’re looking well, slave,’ he remarked, as soon as he had slammed the door of the lockup. ‘I’m glad you came to the right decision regarding our… relationship.’
‘You didn’t give me much of a choice, Detective Inspector Mountjoy,’ she retorted.
He glared. ‘Master, is the correct form of address. You’ve just earnt yourself twelve strokes of the cane. Well, don’t just stand there. Get that skirt off, and whatever you’re wearing underneath it.’
‘I had another visit from your friend, Gareth Whiting,’ she said, ignoring the command. ‘He helped himself to four hundred pounds worth of gear, warning me of what would happen if I tried to stop him. You promised I wouldn’t have any more trouble from him.’
‘You weren’t supposed to.’ He sounded genuinely surprised.
‘It’s bad enough that you should be blackmailing me,’ she continued, her voice rising. ‘I’ve almost got used to the idea of being your sex slave, but I don’t like being threatened by a gangster.’
‘I’ll have another word with him,’ he said impatiently. ‘Now, I won’t tell you again, get your arse bare for the cane. I didn’t bring you here so that we could waste time arguing.’
Constance obediently stepped out of her skirt and pink G-string panties. The Stablemaster pushed her roughly up against the wall and ordered her to spread her arms and legs wide. The hem of her red sweater reached only to the slope of her buttocks, affording her no protection from the cane. He wielded it with a grim determination, each vicious stroke cracking like a pistol shot across her quivering buttocks. Though she tried not to cry out, it was impossible to prevent a few small shrieks from passing her lips.
By the time she left the garage, almost two hours later, her buttocks and thighs were smarting violently from a combination of cane, crop and open-handed spanking. Her breasts were sticky with semen and throbbing from being punished with the cat o’nine tails. She was safely inside her car before she permitted herself a satisfied smile.
The following evening she drove to KT’s mansion, the shoes she had worn to her encounter with the Stablemaster tucked safely into a carrier bag. Planted inside the heel of the left shoe was a tiny transmitting device. The other contained a miniature sound recorder. She was not convinced the equipment could have worked, until KT plugged the recorder into a conventional tape machine and transferred its information to an ordinary cassette. Every word, every breath, every crack of leather on flesh that had taken place in the garage was clearly audible. KT and Gina insisted on listening to the entire tape, the latter seeming to derive particular pleasure from Constance’s frequent squeals of pain.
‘What now?’ Constance asked afterwards.
‘Now, I send a copy of this tape to Detective Inspector Mountjoy, along with a little warning note,’ he replied. ‘If he ever contacts you again, his superiors and any other parties who might be interested will receive their own copies. I think we can safely say we won’t be having any more trouble from him.’
Constance breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God. And thank you, master. I’d still love to know how you’re so familiar with this James Bond-type equipment.’
‘I’m sure you would,’ he answered. ‘Let’s just say that I have experience in security-related matters. There’s something else I want to discuss with you, and now is as good a time as any. Would you fix us some drinks please, Gina?’
The red-haired slave, in the uniform of a maidservant, curtsied. ‘Of course, master.’
‘Unless I’m very much mistaken, you have become quite dedicated to our little broadcasting enterprise,’ KT said, settling back into a sumptuous armchair.
‘Very much so,’ Constance replied. ‘Going on air is almost as good as sex. I felt really sad when I thought I was going to have to give it up over that creep.’
‘Well, you can forget about him now,’ he said, taking a drink from Gina. ‘However, this whole business got me thinking. As it stands, S/M-FM is in a very vulnerable position. We broadcast from the same place, at the same time each weekend, so the authorities would find it very easy to track us down. We’ve been lucky so far, but it’s only a matter of time before this place is raided. We need alternative headquarters for the station, which is where you come in. Your house would be perfect.’
‘My house?’ she exclaimed, almost spilling her drink. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Why not? From a broadcasting point of view it’s ideally situated. And you live alone, with no nosy neighbours, nothing to interfere with the smooth running of a part-time pirate radio station.’
‘In my own home?’ Constance found the notion almost too preposterous for words.
‘You’ve seen how little equipment is involved,’ he said. ‘The e
ntire operation could be run from your attic. It would only be on Saturday nights. S/M-FM would broadcast from a room in The Master’s Masque club on Fridays and from here on Sundays. By transmitting from three separate venues we make it harder for the powers-that-be to track us down.’
‘You’re beginning to sound like a gangster,’ she half-joked.
‘Captain of a pirate ship,’ he corrected. ‘I’ll have all the equipment within a week, ready to set up. All I need from you is your permission. There will, of course, be a reward for your full co-operation.’
‘What kind of reward?’
‘Something very special,’ he replied, with a mysterious smile.
Faced with KT’s powers of persuasion, Constance was as malleable as a lump of putty. Ten days after she agreed to his request to broadcast from her attic, the equipment was installed and her favourite radio station was right under her own roof. Even though it was midweek she went on-air for an hour, reading extracts from the collected works of the Marquis de Sade, while KT checked that everything was working properly. At the end of the test broadcast he pronounced himself extremely pleased with the strength of the signal they had sent out.
‘What about my signals, master?’ Constance asked with a smile, rising from her seat behind the radio deck. ‘Reading that stuff over the air always makes me so horny.’
‘Wait here,’ he replied.
He climbed down from the attic and she heard him go downstairs. He returned several minutes later and called her to come down. She lowered herself through the trapdoor and began descending the stepladder directly below. Halfway down, KT shouted for her to stop. She looked down and saw that he had paid a visit to the kitchen. He was holding a wooden spoon in his right hand and a wet dishcloth in his left. From where he was standing he could see all the way up her short black skirt.
‘Lift your skirt,’ he commanded, his stern voice sending a sensual shudder down her spine. ‘Higher! Do I have to tell you what to do next?’
Constance hurriedly tugged her lacy white panties down over her thighs. She raised her left foot as they slipped to her ankles, then kicked them away with her right. KT ordered her to lean forward on the ladder, so that her bottom was perfectly presented for punishment. He warmed her up with the wooden spoon, dispensing a dozen hard whacks to each cheek. He then twisted the wet dishcloth into a highly effective whip and thrashed her bright pink, from the backs of her knees to the top of her buttocks.
‘You can come down now,’ he said, when he finally finished punishing her.
She scampered down the ladder, her skirt still rolled up around her waist. The instant her feet touched the floor he seized her roughly and pushed her back against the wall. She pretended to resist, knowing he would enjoy it all the more. He ripped her blouse open so that the buttons popped and flew like bullets. She continued to fight him as he fumbled with the clasp at the front of her bra.
‘Must I tie you up before I can have my way with you?’ he barked.
Constance responded with a whole-hearted effort to escape from his clutches. She made it to the door of her bedroom before he grabbed the strap at the back of her bra and yanked her to a halt.
‘So you want to play rough, eh?’ he rasped, locking an arm around her neck. ‘Well, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.’
He kicked the door fully open, dragged her choking and kicking into the room and flung her, face down, onto the bed. Before she had a chance to catch her breath her bra had been ripped open and her skirt was pulled down over her legs. As KT flung it aside she made a renewed effort to save herself, kicking blindly out at him, before attempting a dash towards the door. She knew she had not the slightest hope of getting away, even had she really wanted to. KT leapt upon her like a savage beast and wrestled her to the floor. He pinned her down with the full weight of his body on her legs, grabbed her ponytail in his right hand and jerked her head up.
‘Ouch, master, you’re hurting me,’ she cried.
‘Shut up, slut,’ he retorted, his free hand reaching inside his brown leather jacket.
The snarled words of abuse were almost as exciting to Constance as a wily tongue on her clitoris. In the full-length closet mirror she saw herself – the helpless victim – overpowered by her brutal master. From inside his jacket he produced a thin black leather cord, with two chrome clamps on one end. She offered no further resistance, just a shriek of pain, as he fitted them to her labia. He knotted the other end of the cord tightly around her ponytail, then hauled her to her feet. She had to throw her head back in order to ease the agonising tug on her nether lips.
KT threw her onto the bed and ordered her not to move, if she knew what was good for her. Lying on her back, she watched him rummage like a burglar through the drawers of her dressing table. Having sifted through each one in turn he yanked out the top drawer, carried it over to the bed and emptied the contents over Constance.
He plucked a scarlet suspender belt from the underwear pile and used it to bind her wrists to one of the brass bars at the head of the bed. He then secured her ankles to the upper bedposts with a pair of pale silk stockings and stuffed a balled-up pair of black lace panties into her mouth.
‘You look so much more attractive when you’re helpless,’ he said, stepping back to appraise his handiwork. ‘Now, I’m going to punish you like you’ve never been punished before.’
From the dressing table he picked up a round hairbrush, dealt several whacks of the wooden handle to her bottom, then began raking the hard plastic bristles over her tender buttocks and inner thighs. Her eyes bulging, she tossed her head from side to side and struggled in vain to break free of her bondage. KT dragged the hairbrush over the backs of her legs, all the way to her ankles and back, then once more over every inch of her violently throbbing rear cheeks. The bristles scraped up along her belly, leaving inflamed little furrows behind. Reaching her breasts, he paused momentarily, as though unable to make up his mind whether to proceed.
Constance was not fooled. She knew he was only teasing her.
Who needed a torture chamber when a sadist could find everything he needed in his victim’s dressing table? After he had raked her breasts red with the hairbrush he placed it in the cleft between them, then dressed her in a half-cup bra of pink silk. When it was clasped at the front, the brush was squeezed tightly between her breasts, the bristles painfully pricking her soft flesh.
Using a set of eyebrow tweezers, he began plucking out single ribs of pubic hair, while Constance snorted through flaring nostrils and thrashed on the bed. She thought he would not stop until she had been plucked as bare as a Christmas turkey.
After a few long and hideous minutes of this he put down the tweezers and picked up a card of hair clips. One by one he fitted them to her labia, nine to either side.
He then took her sleek gold vibrator from the bottom drawer of the dressing table and flipped the switch at the base. Bliss superseded discomfort as the slender shaft was eased up inside her.
Only when he tired of teasing and tormenting her, seemingly hours later, did he finally make love to her. She remained trussed up, but he did take the panties out of her mouth so she could at least lend full voice to her passion.
Taking to the airwaves the following Saturday night, she felt exceptionally nervous. Broadcasting from the safety of KT’s studio, she had given little thought to the dangers involved. With S/M-FM coming from her own attic it was not difficult to imagine the police beating a path to her door as she spoke. KT and Gina kept her company, the latter dealing with incoming calls. KT had set up the telephones so callers reached the station’s usual number, not Constance’s own private line.
She exchanged ideas and fantasies with the customary array of night creatures, including a few regular callers who were beginning to sound like old friends.
One suggested that her master might like to tie her up and screw her on air. KT was only
too glad to oblige. He described into the microphone each item of clothing he was removing from her and the method – two white silk scarves – used to bind her wrists to the rafters. She was on her knees, her rear end thrust back and thighs parted to receive him. Gina held the microphone close to the action, ensuring that the listeners heard every grunt, moan and cry of pleasure.
She was not untied again until after the four a.m. closedown.
What happened next had not been plotted in advance. It just seemed natural for KT and Gina to spend the remainder of the night as guests in her bed. However, the other slave insisted that there was a price to be paid if Constance wanted her master’s cock again that night.
Constance stood on a chair in the centre of the bedroom while Gina vengefully thrashed her buttocks with a thick leather strap. KT stood back and watched, ready to take Constance as soon as his slave finished flogging her.
‘I did mention a reward, for your dedication to S/M-FM,’ he said that afternoon. ‘How would you like a very special holiday, Constance?’
‘I haven’t had a holiday in over two years,’ she replied. ‘But I can’t just get up and go. My business needs me.’
‘But what of your needs?’ he responded. ‘It wouldn’t do to start neglecting them again, now would it?’
‘My needs?’ she repeated.
‘Your needs as a submissive woman,’ he explained. ‘You’ve enjoyed everything that’s happened to you in that area so far, am I right?’
‘With the exception of that business with the Stablemaster, yes,’ she replied.
‘So it’s only natural you would want to take your submission to the next stage,’ he continued. ‘Picture something, then tell me what you think. An adult holiday resort where all the men are masters, with all the women – staff and guests alike – totally submissive to them. A fantasy playground, free of the petty rules of political correctness that the real world forces us to observe.’
‘A club, like The Master’s Masque?’
All for Her Master Page 11