Master Me

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

  Eight days, that was all. She was being a baby about this. Before she met Connor, she’d lived alone and had enjoyed it. This would be eight days to play her music louder than Connor would permit, to watch anything she liked on TV, no matter how trashy and lightweight it was. She could sprawl out on the couch and eat chocolate and get drunk…Connor didn’t stop her doing either of those things within reason, but if she had more than one small glass of wine, he wouldn’t do anything kinky with her at all, and so these days she was practically on the wagon.

  “What is it?” Connor took the empty glass from her hand and set it down on an end table. The study was large enough to make even the huge desk seem in proportion, bookshelves running up to the ceiling on two walls. It was designed to be a restful room, though for Helen it was too associated with fulfilling Connor’s fantasies for her to enter it without a thrill of lust. “Normally after a spanking you glow, and I don’t mean just your behind.”

  “I’m having a really hard time with the idea of over a week without you,” Helen admitted. “Don’t think I’m being all clingy or that I’m going to mope, because I won’t, it’s just…I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’ll be here in spirit, if not in body,” Connor said.

  “Huh?” That earned her a slap on her hip, Connor’s fingers catching the welts so that Helen yelped, not enjoying that smack at all.

  “I like my subs articulate, remember,” Connor said.

  Helen glared at him. She knew. She’d said ‘huh’ twice during breakfast the month before and spent the rest of the day either gagged or under strict orders not to say a word. It hadn’t been much fun at all, though by the time Connor had relented, he was rock hard, aroused by her obvious dislike of the punishment. Helen was stiffly resentful and sulking. She’d come close to using her safe word that night and Connor had retreated, walking away from her, still hard, but clearly put off by her disinterest. Which had been enough to make Helen realise that one fantasy Connor wasn’t going to fulfil was the one born of reading dozens of lush romances as a teenager. The fantasy where he ravished her, overcoming her resistance with the requisite burning kisses and fiery, unleashed passion.

  Connor required consent from her. Complete, unreserved, sincere.

  “Fine,” Helen said, aware that she sounded sulky, not dignified. “What does being here in spirit mean? You’ve set up a system of nanny-cams to track my every move? You’ve arranged for a sub-sitter who’ll come in and spank me by proxy every morning?”

  Connor grinned and pulled her closer, his hand going between her legs to find her clit with admirable accuracy. Helen closed her eyes as he rubbed it gently with his fingertip, his other fingers curled into the soft, wet heat of her folds.

  “Interesting ideas, but no, the only camera in the place is the one we take on trips and no one but me gets to spank you, though I have to admit that the idea of a sub-sitter is definitely a business opportunity waiting to happen.”

  Helen arched her hips, encouraging Connor to explore further. They were running out of time. Connor wasn’t a fan of quickies, especially not when he was about to walk out of the door on an overseas trip, but how long would it take to make her come? Not long at all…

  “I mean that the letter I’ve just written contains detailed instructions for each day that I’m away. Tonight, you may do as you like, but tomorrow…”

  “What kind of instructions?” Helen asked, suspicion growing. “Connor, if you’re in San Francisco, you can’t tell me what to do here. That’s just not doable. The time difference is going to put us on different schedules for one thing and on these trips you never have a minute to yourself.”

  That was the main reason that she’d agreed to stay behind. Seeing the States would have been wildly exciting—her trips abroad consisted of a week in Brittany, camping, with the rain teeming down, and a school skiing trip to Austria in a year where the snow was so sparse that her skis had been clattering over icy stones at times—but one hotel room was very much like another and she had a deadline to meet for work. Connor had promised to take her abroad later in the year when both their schedules were free, though, and she had her passport ready and a list of destinations in mind.

  “Which is why I’ve written it all down,” he said imperturbably. “When I get back, we can discuss this in more detail with a view to continuing the routine, but since my driver will be arriving in less than twenty minutes…”

  “Yes?” Helen asked hopefully, angling her face for a kiss.

  His fingers hadn’t stopped teasing her, but the conversation was too distracting for her to really get into being finger-fucked and her spanked bottom was starting to throb in a way that wasn’t as pleasant as the pain had been in the moment that it was given.

  “I’ll hit the high spots,” he said. “And you’re forbidden to come until I return, so you’d better make the most of this opportunity.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Helen said flatly. “Connor, when you’re not here, I don’t sleep well, and getting off is about the only thing that relaxes me at bedtime, so don’t even think about telling me to drink cocoa or something.”

  “I’m perfectly serious,” Connor said, “and that attitude is why we need to talk.”

  Helen pushed his hand away. There wasn’t much chance of her climaxing now.

  “So talk,” she snapped, sitting up and regretting it when the velvet of the couch, smooth though it was, chafed her punished skin.

  Connor gave her a long, steady look. “I’ve spoiled you,” he said, a note of regret audible. “I was enjoying your reaction to everything I showed you—a kid on Christmas morning is subdued compared to you—but I let you down by allowing you to get away with an attitude that most Doms would have found outrageous. I’m not a big fan of some of the traditions such as calling me ‘master’ or ‘sir’ because I prefer to hear you use my name, respectfully, of course, and ordering you to keep your eyes lowered or to kneel when I walk in…no. Just a little too much for my personal taste, though I can see how it’d appeal for a day or so.”

  “I like what we have,” Helen protested. “It works for me.”

  Connor nodded. “I know. You love getting spanked and being in bondage and the sex is—”

  “Hot,” Helen interrupted him to say, unease making her heart pound. “Connor, we make a great couple. You don’t—this isn’t you breaking up with me, is it?”

  Her hand went to her neck. Her bare neck. She’d been to a few clubs with Connor and felt seriously underdressed without a collar, but Connor had given her an enigmatic look that only he could’ve pulled off and refused to discuss it beyond telling her that it wasn’t the right time.

  “It most certainly isn’t,” Connor said and kissed her, his mouth warm and firm against hers.

  Helen moaned into the kiss, her arms sliding around his neck as she returned it. No one had ever kissed her the way that Connor did. He made the world around her go quiet and dim, locking her in the moment.

  “Okay, I’m convinced,” Helen said when the kiss ended, her lips tender and tingling. “I’m still not sure what’s wrong with us, though.”

  “You’re not submitting to me,” Connor said simply. “You’re not in the right headspace ninety percent of the time, and yes, I know that every sub is different, but even so, there’s a shared attitude that you’re just not connecting with.” He grimaced. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s impossible to miss. When you do get there, the difference is incredible. I feel it.”

  “Give me an example,” Helen demanded, feeling obscurely insulted by the suggestion that when it came to subs apparently she was bargain basement, not haute couture. “Tell me when I’ve been so wonderful, because I don’t—”

  “The first time I put you in bondage,” Connor said, not allowing her to finish. “You pulled at the restraints and they held. You struggled, just to test them, and couldn’t break free.” He cupped her face, his touch tender, his expression matching it. “I’ve never seen anything as beauti
ful as the look on your face when you accepted that you were held in place by me, because I wanted you in that position, just like that. You took my breath away. That was months ago, Helen, and I’m not sure that we’ve ever really matched that moment. What we’re creating has stalled. I don’t want anything less than the best for you. When I get back, we’re going to work on getting that moment to be the start of something, not a high point, but a foundation.”

  He patted her face and stood. “The instructions in the letter are to help get you in the right frame of mind while I’m away. I’m not spying on you and I’m not a mind reader. If you skip anything or cheat, I daresay I won’t know—but you will and if you’re serious about our relationship, you’ll do your best. Now, please get dressed. I’d like you to wave goodbye to me and it’s a little chilly to do it naked.”

  “You can’t just throw something like this at me then disappear for the week,” Helen said, annoyed that her voice was shaking and that she wasn’t going to get the after-spanking pampering she loved. “For God’s sake, Connor!”

  He had the grace to look a little sheepish. “I know the timing isn’t ideal, and I promise that when we can talk, you’ll have my undivided attention, but right now, well…”

  “You have to bugger off to the States,” Helen said coldly, crossing her arms to cover her breasts. Connor kept her undressed so much that she’d become used to it, but now she was intensely conscious of the fact that she was naked, with a red arse and swollen nipples. Humiliated, in fact, and not in a good way, with her debasement adding a spice to the scene, just simply embarrassed. All this time, she’d thought that she was doing so well…

  “Right. I’m useless. Got it. Fine.”

  Connor sighed. “You’re nothing of the sort. You know what, you’re right. This was a crap idea and it’s unforgivable of me to voice my concerns then leave. Look, just tear up the letter, enjoy yourself while I’m away, and I’ll be back before you know it.” He gave her a tentative smile. “Is there anything you’d like me to bring back from San Francisco? I won’t have much time to sightsee, but there should be some shops near to my hotel.”

  “I hear they have a bridge,” Helen said, stalking past him to the door. “Bring me that, so I can use it to get over this.”

  As exit lines went, it needed work, but then, what could he expect from an inarticulate failure as a sub?

  Chapter Two

  Curiosity and a still-simmering fury had Helen reading the letter before the car whisking Connor to Heathrow, some thirty miles away, had cleared the village green. It was a long letter, navy ink covering page after page, but a quick glance told her that it was more of what Connor had been saying about submitting. Ignoring it for the moment, Helen skimmed through the typed instructions attached instead muttering, “un-fucking-believable,” and, “is he kidding me?” under her breath—but still very much aware that fury wasn’t the only emotion she was feeling. Connor had worked her up and left her wanting and though that could be erotic when he was watching her suffer and squirm, feeling that way without an audience was less enjoyable. There was something about the neat list of duties and expectations that was arousing her though, and eventually, with a sigh, she put the letter back on Connor’s desk to read properly later, rather than tearing it to confetti, as she’d planned.

  Late March meant that the days were lengthening and outside on the long lawn leading down to the river, daffodils were making splashes of yellow against the grass. Chilly, yes, but spring had arrived after a long winter and Helen couldn’t help remembering how bleak last spring had seemed. Connor had changed her life in a way no boyfriend ever had. She’d left her tiny London flat and moved to a village in Surrey for one thing. That had meant a journey of less than an hour in a car, but she still felt sometimes as out of place as if she’d emigrated.

  Connor’s house had belonged to his great aunt, who’d left it to him for saving her dog from drowning when Connor was ten. Helen wasn’t entirely sure that Connor’s account of the rescue was reliable. He’d downplayed it so that it sounded as if he’d waded into a puddle, not the river in full spate, but she knew that he’d broken his arm during the retrieval of Buster, whose collar had been caught on the branches of a tree limb wedged into some rocks in the centre of the river.

  Helen was a cat person, but she could still appreciate what Connor had done, though she felt that there had to have been more to it than that. Maybe Great Aunt Kitty had just liked Connor best out of his generation. Beaconside House wasn’t a mansion, but it was a large early Victorian house, solidly built and with a placidly welcoming atmosphere that Helen had noticed the first time she’d visited. The garden had been created by carving a slice through a bluebell wood, right down to the river, but without a team of gardeners to keep the wood at bay, the lower part of the lawn was gradually succumbing to the patient trees. Helen loved the terrace, overlooking a fragrant bed of roses and lavender, and the twisting paths leading to unexpected benches. Her favourite place to sit with a cup of tea and a book, was a small pond, water lilies floating on its surface, that Connor had told her would be noisy with frogs soon.

  Helen stared out of the study window at a dense clump of rhododendron bushes that really needed cutting back, though they’d soon be covered in huge, lushly pink flowers, which would probably save them, and wondered just what exactly Connor was talking about.

  The sex was incredible and frequent. Definitely not a problem there. The kinkier side of things…well, from where she’d been kneeling, or lying, hands cuffed tightly, that had seemed to be fine, too. Frowning, bewildered resentment fading to hurt, she made herself a cheese and tomato sandwich and ate it at the kitchen table, a vast, scrubbed white in places, expanse of oak that was so big she had to wonder if they’d built the kitchen around it. Or built it in the kitchen.

  After dulling the pain of emotional turmoil with the last slice of chocolate truffle cheesecake in the fridge, a piece big enough for two people, but cutting it in half just seemed like too much trouble, Helen took the letter with her upstairs and put it on the bed. A long, hot soak with bubbles in the deep bath—not original to the house, but infinitely more luxurious than the one it had replaced according to Connor, who could spend over an hour in it reading—would make her feel better.

  It might have worked if she hadn’t found fragments of sentences from the letter she’d barely glanced at popping up along with the bubbles.

  Your choice to submit was made before you really knew what it would entail.

  What did that even mean? She might have been inexperienced from a practical point of view, but she’d spent hours online going from site to site, reading stories, or staring, wide-eyed and sometimes shocked, at explicit photographs of people in bondage gear, and acres of whipped flesh and leather. She’d researched this lifestyle without ever expecting it to be part of her life. Every night, she found herself in the darkness, her fingers sliding, rubbing, teasing the slick folds between her legs with a delicate cruelty as she pretended that the hands on her belonged to someone else. The Helen who made those animalistic, pleading sounds, who writhed and arched, wanton, shameless, who climaxed with crude, powerful, imploring words spilling from her lips in a voice she didn’t know—that Helen had been locked away during the day.

  Connor had made it possible for Helen to unite fantasy and reality at any time of the day, but part of her was still holding back, she realised as the hot water lapped at her breasts, splotched red from the heat. He was right and she wasn’t submitting. Rules he’d mentioned when she’d moved in had been ignored when they’d seemed like too much trouble, or forgotten, and the punishments she’d received for breaking them had been ones she’d enjoyed. Getting put across Connor’s knee for a spanking was breathlessly exciting, not something to avoid in the future by being good.

  She’d thought that Connor had enjoyed punishing her and that her disobedience was part of the game, but if it hadn’t, if he’d really wanted her to do as he said, then…oh, shit, she’d re
ally screwed things up.

  Helen lay in the bath, staring up at the ceiling, and tried to imagine being the kind of submissive that Connor would want. It would only work if that was what she wanted, too, but did she? It was a huge change in what she was used to in a relationship. Sex that most people would consider kinky thrilled her to the core, but being constantly aware of the fact that Connor was in control of her and tailoring her own behaviour according to his wishes was another matter entirely.

  She emerged from the bath, dripping wet, her skin boiled red, and feeling vaguely sick from too much cheesecake but with a decision made. Connor had introduced her to several friends in the scene but he was closest to a couple, Gary and Belinda, who lived about fifteen miles away. They’d been out of the country during the winter, touring Mexico, but they’d returned a few weeks ago and Helen knew that Belinda would happily answer any questions that she had. And Helen had plenty.

  Flopping on the bed, a towel wrapped around her, she reached for the bedside phone, wincing when her bottom throbbed, a reminder that she needed to take more care sitting down. Belinda was in and delighted to hear from her, commiserating with an easy sympathy once she heard about Helen’s solitary state.

  “So what do you want to do? Girls’ night out?”

  “Subs’ night in?” Helen asked, braced for a refusal. “I really need to talk to someone, Belinda. I thought I was getting the hang of it all, but I’m not, or at least Connor doesn’t think I am, and God, if he decides I’m not worth bothering with, I’ll just—I can’t imagine not being with him and I —”

  “Slow down,” Belinda said. “God, Helen, take a deep breath or something. I’ll ask Gary if I can come over tomorrow night for a few hours, how’s that?”

  “Would you?” Helen said with a grateful sigh. “That would be perfect.”

  “And it’s okay with Connor?”