Night of the Senses

by Victoria Blisse

  “In the absence of specific instruction in the future,” he said, “please assume you are to be naked in my presence.”

  Next, she lowered the zipper on her jeans, then shimmied them over her hips and down her thighs.

  “You’re not to wear knickers again.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a brief shake of his head.

  Already, she was coming to rely on his visual clues.

  He finished his tea, then moved the cup and saucer to the middle of the table.

  She unhooked her bra. Then, self-consciously, she shrugged the straps from her shoulders and allowed the material to puddle on the floor with the rest of her clothing.

  In the chilled air, her nipples pebbled.

  “Beautiful.” He paused. “Now the knickers.”

  In seconds, she stood before him, completely nude. She wished she’d trimmed after her earlier bath; it was all she could do to resist the temptation to cover her mound with her hands. When she started to, he arched a brow. Instantly she dropped her hands and lowered herself to her knees.

  “Do you have lube?”

  “In the drawer of my nightstand. Beside my bed.”

  He left her there, and she fidgeted. Her insides were tumbling. She knew that in her bedroom, he’d find her vibrator, an expensive little thing she’d bought on a trip to Spain. If he searched any other drawers, he would find her reading literature, her magazines, and her naughty little secret nipple clamps.

  She waited impatiently.

  He was taking way too damn long, giving her too much time to wonder what he intended to do next. She laced her fingers and placed her hands on her stomach, then unlaced them and dropped her arms to her sides. The subs she’d seen at Master Theodore and Susanna’s house always seemed to know what to do with their hands. They stayed still. Some of them even seemed serene. That word definitely didn’t describe how she felt.

  He returned and placed several items on the counter. She tracked his every motion with her gaze.

  “You have several magazines,” he said. “BDSM ones.”

  So much for privacy. “Yes,” she admitted.

  “And nipple clamps.”

  Why was admitting all these things so difficult?

  “They could use some weights on them. I’ll see to that.” He regarded her. “Problem?”

  “Sub likes the pressure of the clamps just as they are.”

  “And was sub asked her opinion?”

  “No, Master.”

  With every glance, with every word, he reaffirmed his dominance. As if she could forget.

  He disappeared again, and then returned with a full-length mirror that was usually hung over the bedroom closet door.

  He adjusted the kitchen door, then hung the mirror over it.

  From her peripheral vision, she could see herself. The sight was disconcerting as she catalogued every one of her flaws.

  He walked very close to her, making her feel very small, very dominated. When he stopped in front of her, his crotch nearly against her face, she noticed his cock was hard. That made a frisson of power skip through her. He might be the Dom, but he was every bit as turned on by her as she was by him.

  “There are several positions I expect you to know,” he said. “In the absence of any other command, I expect you to kneel, specifically, to kneel up.”

  “I am.”

  “More or less,” he agreed. “Less, rather than more.”

  “Then…?”

  “By kneel up, I mean I want your hands behind your head. Arch your back slightly so that your breasts are thrust forward.”

  She complied.

  “More.”

  She was more aware of her body and the way she used it than she had been before. She was happily aware of her Master’s approval.

  “Better.” He nodded. “Knees slightly farther apart. Cross your ankles.”

  She remembered Esma from the night before. The sub had naturally assumed a similar position when her Mistress stopped to talk to them. Her throat dry, Marnie realised Master Zach may expect the exact same behaviour from her.

  “When I issue the command to kneel down, you’ll be a bit more relaxed. Hands at your sides.” He nodded, and she followed his unspoken command. “Rest back a bit, so your thighs are on your calves. On your haunches, as it were. Ah…not quite. You’ll want to practice that for a little more grace. And you’ll want to remember that I want to see your pussy, so keep your thighs a bit farther apart.”

  He expected her to remember all this?

  “When you’re sitting on a piece of furniture in future, even at work, never again cross your legs.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “When I tell you to sit, I expect you to sit on the floor, with your legs tucked slightly behind you.”

  “My head is spinning.”

  “Sub’s head is spinning.”

  She frowned.

  “When we’re having a scene, you’ll refer to yourself as the sub or the slave, in the third person. Try again,” he snapped.

  “Sub’s head is spinning, Master.” Even to her ears, the words sounded strange.

  “When I tell you to lie back, I expect you to be on your back, on the floor, with your legs drawn up, your hands on your knees to keep your legs apart.”

  “It sounds…”

  He waited.

  “Like a lot to keep straight.”

  “On all fours means something very specific to you, sub. Your back will be arched slightly so that your arse is a bit higher in the air. And when I order you to present, you’ll modify the All Fours position slightly to have your head on the floor, your arms stretched in front of you, knees spread as wide as you can get them, your arse way in the air. You’ll be wide open for a plug, for inspection, for fucking.”

  She couldn’t even swallow.

  “Kneel up.”

  She forgot to cross her legs at her ankles. He moved behind her and grabbed her ankles, putting one over the other. His motions weren’t gentle. “Remember this,”

  She nodded.

  From this position, his legs, with his polished boots filled her line of sight. How was it possible that, within less than a day, he consumed her thoughts, her actions?

  “We’ll try this a couple of times, allow you to practice before I start to punish you for being remiss.”

  “Punish?” her voice sounded a bit squeaky.

  “Punishment is very instructive, kneel.”

  Her movements were awkward as she moved from one position into the next.

  “What’s the most important thing you need to keep in mind?”

  “That master is visually oriented,” she said. “And he likes to look at his sub.” Even if she didn’t like to be looked at.

  “Good girl.”

  Her cheeks were red.

  “Again,” he told her.

  He put her through her paces a least a dozen times before finally relenting and saying, “Kneel up.”

  She placed her hands behind her head, and pulled back her shoulders to lift her breasts. Master Zachary crouched behind her to cradle her breasts in his palms. “Look at yourself,” he told her.

  Marnie was shocked at the person, her, in the mirror.

  Her hair was in wanton disarray. Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t look as unattractive as she feared.

  The sight of his large hands holding her breasts was a turn-on like she’d never experienced.

  He flicked his thumbs across her breasts, abrading her nipples and making them stand erect. “See what I see,” he told her. “See the gorgeous, submissive woman who wants to please her Master.”

  His hands were large and her breasts appeared small as he cupped them in his palms.

  His skin tone was a few shades darker than her own, and the contrast seemed stark.

  Startling her, she noticed the same adoration in her eyes as had been in Susanna’s last night. Even if she protested, Master Zachary could see the truth of what she really wanted
.

  More than ever, she knew she could not hide from him.

  “You see it, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “No matter what your mouth says, your eyes, your expression, the way your body responds to me tells the truth.”

  Releasing her, he stood.

  He filled her vision as he towered over her. Desire and disbelief collided and skipped through her. He’d claimed her as his sub.

  “I’ll expect you to practice your positions each evening before going to bed and immediately upon arising. I want your motions to be fluid. I want you to stop worrying about your weight and focus on being pleasing. Do you remember Esma’s motions last night?”

  “She makes it look easy.” She’d never even needed more than a cursory glance from Mistress Beverly to know what was expected of her. “I never realised there was so much involved.”

  “Sub didn’t realise there was so much involved.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Esma has had a lot of training for her motions to be so effortless, just as you will receive. Present, sub. Show me your body.”

  She swallowed. He hadn’t made her do this one yet.

  Unsure, she concentrated. The more she concentrated, the more she was aware that her motions were abrupt, rather than smooth. A bit awkwardly, she got on her hands and knees, then placed her head on the tiled floor and stretched her arms in front of her. She splayed her fingers wide. The floor was cold and unyielding, and not being able to see Zachary made her nervous. She’d already started to rely on some visual clues, she realised, and adjusted her behaviour accordingly.

  But now, she was on display.

  She felt his hand on the small of her back, forcing her to arch more. Her arse was higher in the air. She’d never really exposed herself like this before. Doing it for him felt naughty, made her aware of her femininity, made her aware of her submissiveness.

  “Wider,” he told her, using his booted foot to move her knees apart more.

  She wasn’t sure that was possible, but he physically put her where he wanted her.

  “You’re to stay in this position without moving.”

  It took all her internal fortitude not to move when she heard him leave the kitchen.

  Her muscles were cramping by the time he returned.

  “I like to look at your cunt,” he said, making her shiver. “And your arse hole. You’re an anal virgin?” He pressed a finger against the tight whorl.

  She squeezed her arse cheeks together.

  He smacked her right thigh, hard.

  She yelped. “Mas-ter!”

  “Present,” he snapped.

  Tears welling, not from the pain but from the promise of the humiliation, she resumed her position.

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and answer the question.”

  “Yes,” she said miserably. “Sub is an anal virgin.”

  “Reach back with your hands and part your arse cheeks.”

  Instead of feeling her rear being penetrated, she felt something damp and warm. “Master?”

  “I’m preparing the sub to be shaved.”

  “The sub trims, Master.”

  “Is there a part of ‘I like to look at my sub’ that you didn’t understand?”

  “But… Even sub’s arse, Master?”

  “Clearly, sub,” he said. “Now spread your arse cheeks.”

  She’d hoped he hadn’t noticed the way she had loosened her grip a little.

  He soaped her entire pussy, working the soap into a lather. Then, with a razor, he began to shave her. He even pulled down her labia and removed every trace of hair from the inside of her pussy lips. Within minutes, she was completely bare.

  “Feel it,” he told her after wiping off the last of the lather and patting her dry with a towel.

  She trailed her fingertips around her pussy. “It’s smooth.”

  “Nice,” he added. “Kneel up.”

  Her muscles had fatigued, so it took a few seconds to comply with his order.

  He took a hand mirror from the table and offered it to her. “Spread your legs and have a look at your pussy.”

  “I…” She’d never actually studied her privates in a mirror. And seeing her pubes shaved bare gave her pause. Was there no limit to the things he’d demand of her? “It’s a bit …odd.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” he contradicted. “While you watch in the mirror, play with your clit.”

  She wondered what she’d signed up for when agreeing to be his sub. It wasn’t what she expected, wasn’t what she’d read about, wasn’t what she’d seen at Master Theodore’s home. Holding the mirror in one hand, she played with her clit with the other.

  She watched it swell, watched it become more and more red.

  Her knees started to quiver, and she moaned. An orgasm built deep inside and grew in intensity. Her fingers moved faster and faster, and an orgasm loomed just seconds away. Unexpectedly, he commanded, “Stop.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed. The need to climax clawed at her insides. Damn, what would it hurt, anyway?

  “You’ll come when given permission. And only then.”

  She supposed it wouldn’t be very wise to stick out her tongue. Not wise, but tempting.

  “Are your fingers wet?”

  “Yes.” She was wetter than she’d ever been. He hadn’t even touched her and she was on the verge of shattering.

  “Lick your fingers.”

  She’d never done anything like this, but she followed orders, reluctantly.

  He stood there, legs wide, arms folded, watching her intently. The way he stared at her made her insides flip. She’d never considered herself anything beyond passably attractive, but the smokiness clouding his eyes gave her pause. “See yourself the way I see you.”

  For a moment, she did.

  “Look at your clit again,” he instructed.

  She did.

  “Pull back the skin surrounding it.”

  Still holding the mirror, she did.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Just the barest touch from her own hand had her on the edge again. “It’s swollen. Red. Moist.”

  “Put down the mirror. Then return to your correct kneeling position.”

  She tried hard to be graceful, but the mirror made a noise when she laid it on the tile. Her knees were wide and she was aware of his gaze on her swollen labia and clit.

  “Outside of what you’ve shared with me and what you’ve seen at Master Theodore’s home, you’ve never experimented with BDSM?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “So you’ve never been punished for misbehaving?”

  Wildly her mind raced backwards as she tried to figure out where she had gone wrong. “No, Master. The sub has never been punished for misbehaving.”

  “Until now.”

  Chapter Five

  “Master…?” she asked.

  “Last night, despite my explicit instructions, you came home and masturbated yourself to orgasm.”

  She lowered her gaze.

  “Look at me.”

  Instantly she did.

  “Do you think, given the nature of this relationship, I should ignore a transgression, just once?”

  “Sub wishes Master would.”

  He regarded her. Unlike earlier when he’d smiled at her, there was no compromise in the set of his facial features. “And if Master didn’t keep his word and follow through, sub would learn…?”

  She swallowed. “I see Master’s point…wait! Sub sees Master’s point.”

  “Go on.”

  She breathed deep, glad he’d seemingly ignored that small transgression. “If Master ignores sub’s errors this time, she might expect him to do so all the time.” As she talked, fear and excitement collided deep inside her. “She might become sloppy in hopes that Master would be swayed just one more time.”

  “You’ve wondered what it would be like to be disciplined.” It was a statement, not a question.

  He fi
lled her vision. The scent of him, of rain, of the outdoors, of man, surrounded her. “The sub has wondered what it might be like to receive a spanking.” Only in her dreams had she imagined speaking this way. “Over her Master’s knee.”

  He pulled back a chair, the legs scraping on the floor.

  Her pulse accelerated.

  He took a seat. “Drape yourself across my knee.”

  She stood and crossed to him silently, ensnared in his gaze.

  “Wait. Grab the lube from the counter, first.”

  She’d hoped he’d forgotten it. She grabbed the tube and placed it in his palm.

  Her mouth dry, she lay across his lap, aware of the scratchiness of denim on her bare skin.

  “Spread your legs. I want to be able to diddle you if it suits me.”

  She was upside down, her hair brushing the desert-coloured tiles. She used her fingertips for balance as her toes sought purchase.

  “In the mirror, meet my gaze.”

  She fought to resist the impulse to squeeze her eyes shut. Instead, she swept her hair behind her ear so she could see her Dom.

  “You are beautiful in your surrender.”

  She looked nervous and exposed. She wasn’t sure about the beautiful part.

  “Beatings, spankings, paddlings, croppings, whippings…they all have various purposes. They can be for pleasure… Well,” he corrected, “beating, spanking, paddling, cropping, whipping you is always for my pleasure. You’ve heard the old saying; this will hurt me more than it will hurt you?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s not true at all.”

  Beast.

  “It will always hurt you more than it hurts me.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  He grinned quickly, and in that instant, she knew there was no place she would rather be.

  “For now, we’ll use the word beating to mean anything I’ve already mentioned, including caning.”

  “Caning?” Her voice was a squeak.

  He slapped her hard across the buttocks. “Do not tighten your arse cheeks.”

  She learnt that lesson fast and well.

  “You’ll work up to that. Nothing immediate, I promise you. A beating can be sensuous, a prelude to sex. It can also be routine discipline. For example, I may spank you just to keep you aware of your place, remind you that you’re my sub.”