Master Me

by Lisabet Sarai, Trina Lane, Elizabeth Coldwell, Charlotte Stein, Jane Davitt, Justine Elyot

  “You must be Neil,” Liz said. “Tina’s told me so much about you.”

  “Yes, I can imagine.” Neil declined the fancy cocktails on offer, ordering a bottle of Italian beer instead. He raised the bottle to Liz in a mock salute. “Thank you for being punctual, Elizabeth, and for dressing as I requested. I have the feeling you and I are going to get along very well.”

  A couple were vacating a table in the corner, and Neil ushered Liz over to take their places. The message on the wall above them read, ‘FOREVER YOURS’, though Liz hardly paid it any attention. She was too busy silently celebrating her luck in finding herself with this stunning man.

  “So, Tina tells me you’re looking for a guest to take to a wedding,” Neil said once they were seated. “How does a beautiful woman like you find herself in a position where she’s on her own?”

  The compliment could have been corny, but Neil made it sound utterly sincere. Liz felt a swift rush of lust pass through her body to settle low in her belly, and she squirmed in her seat. “The man who’s getting married is my ex,” she explained, “and since we split up—well, I guess I just haven’t been in the mood to meet someone else. And it’s very important that I find the right man now, because obviously I don’t want people to realise we’re not actually a couple.”

  “You know there are escort services, which could provide this kind of thing?”

  Liz couldn’t work out whether or not Neil was joking. She settled for saying, “I dread to think what they’d charge for an overnight stay. And I’d prefer to go with someone who was there because they actually liked me, rather than because I was paying for their company.”

  Neil took a thoughtful sip from his bottle. “That makes sense. And I’d be more than happy to accompany you. But on one condition.”

  “And that is?” Liz knew this was the moment when the whole plan could fall apart.

  “You do exactly as I tell you, from the moment we get on the train at St. Pancras to the moment we arrive back there.”

  Liz twirled the straw in her cocktail, mulling the idea over. She was sure there were plenty of women who would turn such a bizarre request down flat, but she had already been doing everything he’d asked since she’d replied to his e-mail. Though she couldn’t admit it to herself—not just yet, at any rate—something deep within her was responding to the idea of being subtly controlled and made to follow Neil’s orders.

  “I think I can cope with that,” she said. “As long as you don’t ask me to stand in the middle of a busy road, or throw the wedding cake at my ex.”

  Neil smiled, those dark eyes seeming to burn into her. “Don’t worry, Elizabeth, there’ll be nothing like that. But you need to know what you’re letting yourself in for, so let’s see just how good you are at following my instructions.”

  “Okay,” Liz replied. “I’m game if you are.”

  “Very well, I’d like you to undo a button on your blouse.”

  She had already left the top two buttons unfastened. Opening another button would give him a hint of her creamy cleavage, nothing more. It didn’t seem like too much to ask, so she obeyed.

  “Very good,” Neil said. “And another.”

  Doing as she was told would open the blouse as far as the front catch on her bra. Still, it could have been worse. Her breasts were small enough that some days she went without a bra, depending on what she was wearing. She was suddenly glad today wasn’t one of those days.

  Liz gave a swift glance round the bar, which was beginning to thin out as people left to catch a train or move on to one of the many nearby restaurants. No one seemed to be paying them any attention. She hesitated for a moment longer, then took a breath and popped open the button.

  Neil sat for a while, his gaze fixed on her breasts, which were pushed upwards enticingly by her underwired bra. She relaxed inwardly, certain she’d done enough to prove she could do anything he asked of her. His next words put the lie to that idea.

  “Now undo your bra, Elizabeth. Show me those lovely little tits of yours.”

  That was the point at which she should call a halt to this whole game, thank Neil for his time, and walk away. But she couldn’t. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt truly alive. Her body tingled and her pussy flooded with juice at the thought of being made to bare herself for him.

  Cheeks flushed and eyes closed tight, she flicked open the little fastening.

  “Good girl,” was all Neil said.

  No one had ever called her his good girl before, and it was as though a button had been pushed, unleashing the most powerful of emotions. She burned with pride at pleasing him and suddenly she wanted to be taken further, to see just how far she could go before she reached her limit.

  He leant close to her. She smelt his cologne, the earthy scent of Vetiver. At first she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he took hold of one nipple, then the other, rolling them between his fingers.

  “They’re so hard,” he murmured, continuing to toy with them.

  Liz no longer cared that someone passing the table might see what was happening. The sensations pulsing through her were too overwhelming.

  “But they were hard before I touched them, weren’t they? Just as I’m sure your clit is hard, too. And all it would take would be a couple of touches there to have you coming, in front of so many people…”

  Liz whimpered, unable to help herself. That was the point at which Neil withdrew, turning his attention to what remained of his beer.

  “Well, I think you’ve proved you can do as you’re told,” he said, his tone suddenly all business. He gestured to her to adjust her clothing and make herself decent once more. “You know, I think we’re going to have a lot of fun at this wedding…”

  * * * *

  Back in her flat, Liz wandered into the bedroom in a daze, still not quite able to believe she’d really undressed in a crowded bar for a man she’d never met before. After she’d buttoned herself up, Neil had bought her another drink and they’d sat chatting, getting to know each other better. As Neil had told her about his job as an architect and they’d swapped stories about Tina, it almost seemed as though the last ten minutes hadn’t happened. The incriminating wetness in her panties told her otherwise.

  Neil had walked her to the tube station, his arm resting lightly on the curve of her hip. It was a romantic gesture, but one that made Liz think of ownership, too. When he’d kissed her goodnight, it was with a passion that had left her limp and breathless. His cock had pressed against her, so hard and so enticing. Then her train had pulled into the platform and she’d had to dash down the steps to catch it, bidding him a hasty farewell. When she’d looked back, he was already gone.

  Sitting on the bed, she could still feel Neil’s fingers on her nipples, skilful and assured as he brought her to the verge of orgasm with his touch and his words. As she submitted to his desires. It was a word she’d never associated with herself before, but she couldn’t deny Neil had discovered a submissive streak buried deeply within her.

  Not that she would mention any of this to Tina, who was bound to ask what she thought of him. She would simply say that yes, Neil was every bit as gorgeous as Tina had implied, and they were going to the wedding together. Everything else would be her delicious secret.

  Her pussy was growing wet again, simply recalling what Neil had said and done to her. She had been denied an orgasm earlier on, but now there was no one to stop her from giving herself the satisfaction she craved.

  In her bedroom, she quickly stripped out of her tight-fitting skirt. When she peeled down her panties, they were drenched with her cream. She wished Neil was here to see her now, looking thoroughly respectable from the waist up, but available and wanton with her bare bottom and lace-topped hold-up stockings on display. In her mind’s eye, she saw Neil sitting on the bed, patting his lap as he ordered her to drape herself over it and receive the spanking she deserved. Where on earth had that come from? she wondered. Her fantasies had always be
en relatively plain and straightforward, but now she was getting unbelievably turned on just at the thought of having her bottom smacked.

  How would it feel? Would Neil use his bare hand or some kind of implement to punish her? She spotted her wooden-backed hairbrush lying on the bedside table and snatched it up. Standing in front of the mirror so she could watch her reflection, she brought the brush down on her bum cheek. It stung briefly, but she suspected it was nothing compared to what she would feel if Neil was applying it to her creamy flesh.

  Lying back on the bed, she closed her eyes and pictured Neil spanking her ‘til her arse glowed red and she begged for mercy. When he’d finished, he would kiss her, soothing the hurt away, then he would slide his big, hard cock up into her and fuck her ‘til rainbow colours danced before her eyes. Completely wrapped up in her fantasy, Liz eased the narrow handle of the hairbrush up into her juicy sex, using it as a makeshift dildo as the middle finger of her other hand skittered over her clit. It only took a few thrusts of the brush, coupled with the subtle touch of her fingers, to make her pussy clench round the handle in the sweetest of orgasms. As her pleasure crested, she could almost hear Neil’s voice in her ear, telling her what a good, obedient girl she was and how beautiful she looked as she came for him. She couldn’t wait for him to utter those words in real life.

  * * * *

  Even though she was five minutes earlier than they’d agreed, Neil was already waiting for her on the first-floor concourse of St. Pancras station, by the statue of the lovers kissing. He was more casually dressed than the last time they’d met, in jeans and a short black jacket over an olive green T-shirt, but he still had the same air of authority she found so arousing.

  “Elizabeth, lovely to see you. And punctual as ever,” he said, enfolding her briefly in an embrace. “Why don’t we go and get coffee before we board the train?”

  They walked through the recently renovated station, past the Eurostar trains waiting to leave for Paris. To their immediate right was the showpiece champagne bar, the longest in Europe. It seemed surprisingly busy for half-past eight on a Saturday morning, with travellers enjoying glasses of fizz to start or end their journey.

  At the far end of the station were the platforms where trains departed for Nottingham, Derby and Sheffield. Close to the ticket barriers was a coffee shop, with a couple of tables outside where people sat drinking from oversized china cups. Neil took a ten-pound note from his wallet and handed it to Liz.

  “Right, I’ll have a cappuccino topped with nutmeg, no sugar, and a blueberry muffin. You will have an Earl Grey tea and a yoghurt-covered fruit and nut bar.”

  Liz almost said something, not used to having her food and drink choices made for her, then she remembered what Neil had told her on her first meeting…

  You will do exactly as I tell you, from the moment we get on the train at St. Pancras to the moment we arrive back there.

  She nodded, and went into the coffee shop.

  Waiting to be served, she wondered again why she was so happy to let Neil take control, even if only for a couple of days. She had read somewhere that women in important, stressful jobs often relished being in situations where they could give up all responsibility for once. Letting their lover—more accurately, their master—make decisions as to what they ate, what they wore, even whether or not they were allowed to have an orgasm, all added to their sexual satisfaction. To Liz, who was a novice in such matters, it seemed a little strange, but she couldn’t deny how horny she had felt when Neil had made her follow his instructions in the Candy Bar.

  As she returned to him with their drinks and breakfast treats, an announcement came over the Tannoy that their train was now boarding on platform two. They went to find their seats. Neil had suggested they travel first class, to give them more in the way of privacy, and Liz had wondered what games he might have in mind. To her surprise, he pulled his laptop out of his bag and plugged it into the socket provided at the side of his seat.

  “I’m really sorry, but I had some work dumped on me just as I was leaving the office last night,” he said. “I’ve got to review a couple of documents and e-mail them over to a client in Bonn. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Liz replied. She was a serial offender when it came to taking her work home with her.

  He looked over the screen of his laptop at her and added with a wicked smirk, “There’s just one thing I need you to do while I’m working. Go to the toilet, take off your panties and hand them over to me.”

  Liz felt her pussy clench sharply with excitement. It was only a little thing he was asking, and as she was wearing jeans it wasn’t as though he wanted her to do this so he could play with her under the table, but it was another indication of his growing mastery of her.

  “Well, go on,” he said, as the train pulled out of the station. “No one’s paying you any attention.”

  Liz slipped quietly into the toilet cubicle at the end of the carriage and bolted the door. As she reached for the fastening of her jeans, her heart hammered in her chest, a fierce thrill running through her. She’d chosen to wear one of her favourite lingerie sets that day, cream silk with a pale pink lace trim, and she wondered whether Neil would approve of her taste in underwear.

  When she returned to her seat, he was hard at work. For a moment she watched him, admiring his long fingers as they tapped at his keyboard and imagining how it would feel to have them running over her body. Eventually, he looked up from his screen.

  “Your panties, please, Elizabeth,” he said, holding out his hand.

  She hesitated, aware the guard was passing through the carriage checking tickets. She was a woman in her late twenties, much the same age as Liz, and she had a friendly smile on her face as she spoke to each passenger in turn. Liz pictured that smile fading if the guard came close enough to see Neil taking the scrap of damp silk from her.

  “Elizabeth, when I give an instruction, I like it to be followed promptly,” Neil snapped.

  She pushed the panties into his grasp just as the guard approached. Nothing in the woman’s expression indicated she’d seen what had happened, and Liz gave a sigh of relief as she settled back in her seat.

  When the guard had checked their tickets and moved on to the next carriage, Neil spread Liz’s panties out on the table by the side of the laptop. “Those are beautiful, Elizabeth, and I’m sure you have lots of other delights in your underwear drawer. But from now on, whenever you’re in my company, you are not allowed to wear panties. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Liz didn’t know where the word, “sir,” had come from, but it seemed the correct word to use when addressing him.

  “Good girl,” he said, tucking her panties in his jacket pocket before turning back to his work. “Now drink your tea before it goes cold.”

  Again, being called his good girl caused her pussy to gush with juice. She shifted in her seat, feeling the seam of her jeans press pleasurably against her clit. Simply being with Neil had her in a hot and bothered state, and the deliciously kinky things he was asking her to do were making her even more horny. She was sure Neil was going to fuck her before the weekend was out, but she sensed he had a few more mind games in store for her before that happened.

  Lost in erotic daydreams, Liz was barely aware of the countryside passing by. She did, however, spot Endover Hall, the hotel where James’ reception was being held, high up on a hill a few miles outside the town of Chesterfield. When she’d first received the invitation, she had been apprehensive about attending the function, but now she couldn’t wait to walk into the grand reception room, arm in arm with Neil.

  A light rain, containing within it the promise of snow, was falling as they joined the small queue for taxis in front of Chesterfield station. Liz huddled closer to Neil and wondered why James and Jillian had chosen to get married in November, rather than waiting ‘til summer, when the weather would be better. At least they hadn’t decided to hold the ceremony in the Caribbean or Hawaii, as so ma
ny couples did these days.

  By the time the taxi dropped them off at the front entrance of the hotel, they had just over an hour to change before making the short walk to the church. Liz had booked a double room for herself and Neil, to help keep up the impression they were a genuine couple. The room was on the first floor, tastefully decorated in soothing shades of brown and magnolia, with a comfortable-looking king-sized bed and a view out over the gardens at the back of the hall.

  “Before you change,” Neil said, as Liz began to stow her clothes in the wardrobe, “I’d like to see what you’re intending to wear this afternoon.”

  Liz laid her outfit out on the bed for his inspection. She had chosen a dress in soft dove-grey wool, finishing just above her knee, with hold-up stockings and a pair of kitten-heeled black boots. A chunky bead bracelet and a grey-feathered fascinator to wear in her blonde hair completed the look.

  “Very nice,” Neil commented. “But you’re not to wear a bra underneath it.”

  “But—” Liz stammered. The woollen material would cling to the curves of her breasts and buttocks, making it clear the dress was all she had on. In church, where she would have her long cream-coloured coat over the top, she would still look respectable. But once they were back at the hotel and the coat came off, it would be a very different story. “People will be able to see everything.”

  “That’s the idea,” Neil said. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on just a bit, thinking of everyone seeing your nipples pushing against the material and knowing what a horny little thing you are, ripe for a good fucking…”