by Eden Elgabri
"Lie down on your back, spread your arms out to the edges of the bed and spread your legs as wide as you can. If you shut you legs before I give you permission, I'll toss you outside naked and you can get dressed to go home out on the front lawn. Do you understand?"
Seemed a little extreme, but I nodded. He planned on me having multiple orgasms while he watched. I should have been thrilled. Instead, I was terrified. As he pushed my legs open even farther than I had them, he turned on the ‘magic bullet.’ He teased along my labia and set the thinner three inch tip inside the slit. The vibrating metal worked its way up to my clit and circled around and around until I wanted to scream with frustration.
"You want it right on that button?"
I nodded hoping the first release would be a quick one. For me, clitoral orgasms were always bigger and stronger, and my body was wound so tight I knew soon I'd be blasting off like a rocket. He placed the tip right on my clit and turned up the volume. My body bucked and jumped in spite of his telling me not to move.
Understanding the involuntary movements for what they were, he slid the vibrator down and penetrated my anus ever so slightly with the thin tip of the vibrator. My entire being thrummed from orgasm and the vibrations in my ass. When it felt like all sensation was in my ass, his head dipped down and his tongue found my clit. He lapped and sucked while the buzzing in my ass continued.
This orgasm, as intense as it was, and on top of the other two, had me close to a coma. I heard my own screams of pleasure, and my muscles tensed and turned into gelatin. I wasn't sure if I was alive or dead, and at the moment, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that I had never in my entire life felt this good.
I woke up to his hands around my neck. Was he trying to strangle me? No. He was after the necklace. An intense loneliness ensued whenever he took off the necklace. Without it I was just an average woman. With it on I was a femme fatale, a siren, a slave girl, a million different women and all of them alluring. I stole a glance at the clock and groaned. Time to go home and I didn't want to. More than anything I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, to awake in the morning and start all over again.
"Come on, it's late. You need to go."
I wanted to beg him to allow me to stay, but my kids were coming to visit first thing in the morning and all I needed was to show up after them in wrinkled clothes from the night before. Sleepily, I stood, pulled on my clothes, and threw myself into his arms. What can I say? Old habits die hard and the emotion following an orgasm was linked with cuddles and hugs. I needed his arms around me more than I needed air. I didn't know how to thank him, so I looked into his eyes and let all my gratitude flow out from them.
"Don't look at me that way. It's too late to be seduced into another round, and I'm getting hard again.” He tilted my chin up and kissed me. The soft, sweet, goodnight kiss promised another meeting. I grinned and walked out into the cool night air.
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Chapter Four
It had been a short week in one sense. Columbus Day meant one less day of classes. The work load stayed almost as heavy and the visit with the girls was bittersweet. The end of the visit remained the hardest part. Saying goodbye the thirtieth time hurt no less than the first. When would I adjust to the fact they were in college and would never return to my home? I no longer even had a home for them to come home to. The small apartment wouldn't work for longer than a weekend.
The ex had bought a house, a big one with plenty of room for them. They mentioned that fact more than once, that come summer they'd have to live with him. Then they dropped the bomb. The girlfriend was living there. It was going to suck. Why couldn't I consider getting a house before summer?
They didn't get the part where I was using my money from the house to live so I could go to school full time. I wouldn't be able to afford a house until I graduated and passed the bar. That wasn't happening in time for summer. Twin pouts, half-hearted hugs, homework, and then back to the grind. By Thursday my hand kept reaching for my neck, willing my golden collar to appear. My body readied at the sound of his voice. It covered me in warmth and excitement.
"Tomorrow your job will be to serve me. I am a pharaoh and you are my slave."
My hand caressed my neck. “Yes, Master."
I heard the click of the phone and held it to my ear even though he was no longer there. Leaning back on the bed, I shut my eyes and gripped the phone. Our last session replayed in my mind and I grinned uncontrollably. I'd had my turn last time. More than anything I wanted to rock his world the way he'd rocked mine. I'd be the best slave any man ever had.
The next evening I dressed with extra special care. Underneath my clothes I sported red stockings, a red garter belt, black spiked boots, and an underwire that wasn't really a bra because it didn't cover anything. The underwire did hold up my breasts and jut them out as if they were offerings. Hanging from both nipples were ringed nipple clamps from which dangled red hearts. I pulled my hair up in a high scrunchie so it hung like a rope, easy for him to grab and pull on.
When I arrived at his home I stripped in the antechamber so when I opened the inner door I stood in just the seductive undergarments. I arrived a few minutes early and Michael was still in the bathroom freshening up. The door was slightly ajar and the water in the sink was running.
I stood without making a sound. He seemed surprised when he opened the bathroom door and saw me. I dropped to my knees. “Master."
Although my eyes were lowered I got a good look before I kneeled. He had on a brown suit, perfect for his coloring and his eyes. I licked my lips and committed the sight to memory. I'd always been partial to his looks, finding both his face and body appealing, but tonight, more than ever I wanted to look at him. He seemed so dapper, or whatever you want to call it.
"Stand."
I stood making sure my legs were spread apart and smoothed my hair before placing my hands by my side. That's when I realized I hadn't put on the collar. Hadn't even noticed it hanging on the door where it should have been. I groaned. Something was wrong.
"Come in to the bedroom.” He turned and I followed him. He walked over to his closet. “Go stand in front of the mirror."
I stood there amazed at the sexual being looking back at me. I looked younger and sexier than I had in years. He came up behind me and inspected me in the mirror. “Looks like tonight you are to be bejeweled. His hands went around my throat and a different necklace adorned me. Austrian crystals surrounded my neck and glittered like diamonds. “Tonight you are my queen, Victoria. The pharaoh's cunt. Above all other women, but completely there to serve my needs."
His finger flicked the red hearts dangling from one nipple. “Perfect. You always dress to please me. It doesn't go unnoticed, you know. Now go into the bathroom and run my bath. Then come back to undress me."
"Yes, Master. It is my honor,” I said with as much deference as I could.
He turned his head so I wouldn't see his grin, but I caught it in the mirror. I sashayed out of the room, hips swinging like a pendulum, and turned on the water for his bath. Two packets of bath oil beads sat on the edge of the tub and I emptied them both in the water and swirled it around before returning to the man I wished to serve.
He was seated on the bed and I bent forward to remove his jacket and tie, placing them gingerly on the bed beside him. I knelt at his feet and took off one shoe and then the other, repeating the process with his socks. Sliding in between his legs, I pressed on his chest so that he reclined on the bed while I undid his belt and took off his pants. I pulled off his underwear and licked from his balls to the tip of his cock.
"Later. Finish undressing me."
I unbuttoned his shirt and relieved him of it. He stood up naked and walked to the bathroom with me following.
He felt the water before descending into it, and I shut the door to keep the cold air out. He pointed to the counter next to the sink where a gardening pad sat. “Put that down on the floor and kneel on it."<
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Always thinking of me. It seemed silly. I'd be on my knees bathing him, yet he thought enough about me to make sure I wasn't kneeling on a hard tile floor. I placed it down next to the tub and picked up the washcloth and the soap. He shut his eyes and I began to bathe him, one body part after another. I'd done the shower thing with my ex-husband, but it didn't come close to the eroticism of being half naked kneeling outside a tub while washing a naked man inside it. Knowing that I was there not only to serve, but also to pleasure him with my touch, might have had something to do with it. Or it could have been that he'd made me his chosen queen rather than an ordinary slave girl. The words ‘above all others’ reverberated in my head, buzzing my body into arousal like a vibrator.
"How was your day?” He opened his eyes and I stared at him momentarily mute.
We'd flipped from pharaoh to master. Since I'd enjoyed being queen it took a moment to connect back with the here and now. “Um, it was okay. Normal school day, I guess."
"Tell me about it.” He shut his eyes again.
Weird as it sounds, discussing the mundane while bathing him made the situation that much more real, and that much more erotic. I dropped the cloth and let my hands stroke his body with the soap. One hand washed, one rinsed. I discussed my classes and the good and bad aspects of the day. When I asked him about his, the corner of his mouth turned up in the hint of a smile and he unloaded the events of his day without going into much detail. Almost as if it was military and I only had a low level clearance. He stood up and I reached for the towel to dry him.
Once back in the bedroom I massaged his body starting with his back. My hands caressed every inch of him from his temples to his toes, finishing with his cock. Skin smooth as velvet didn't take long to get glass hard.
"Get a condom and ride me."
I bent to reach the condoms and had it on him in record time. He placed his body pillow underneath him so it added a few inches and made it easier for me to ride. I slid on to him and went to bend forward to kiss him.
"No, sit up straight and ride like you would on a horse."
As I lifted myself along his cock, his finger reached for my clit and he stroked. My pace increased so that as I rode him, the friction on my clit increased also. I came hard, long before he did, and ran out of the energy to ride. He flipped me over on my back and lifted my legs in the air so that my feet sat on either side of his neck. He entered me again and fucked me hard until another wave washed over me and we came together. Like normal lovers we spooned and slept only to wake and do it all over again. We talked and laughed. I drove home in a puddle of afterglow. My contract with Michael was the best decision I'd ever made, a win-win with no downside.
Or so I thought. What do the French call it? La vie en rose? Looking at life through rose-colored glasses.
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Chapter Five
The first part was becoming a routine. Park the car across the street and enter the open door. Shut and lock it so no one else could get in. Turn, kneel, and wait for the master.
My knees hit the carpet automatically. That was one of the great parts about being with Master. I could, for the most part, shut my mind off. My chin hit my chest and I waited, decompressing, stress sliding away as arousal built, knowing my master was close by.
I'm not sure when I stopped thinking of him like any other man. He had a man's body, a man's mind, but he was more than that. He was my master. The one man who had the power to control my will and my body. To take me. To own me. To give me pleasure and to insist I give it in return.
My nipples hardened to little nubs as I heard his footsteps approach. He didn't say a word but strode up close so that his cock rubbed up against my face through his pants. I could feel his arousal and he gripped my hair in his hands, parted it to expose my neck and then ran his finger down the center of it. Wrapping my hair around his hand he yanked it back so that I looked up at him.
"I'm releasing you for the next hour so that you may dine with me and feel at ease."
I wasn't sure what to do or what to say. Should I still call him Sir or Master? Or should I call him by his first name? I itched to use his given name, to taste it on my tongue. But somehow now it felt like a privilege I hadn't quite earned. Using it would be tantamount to meeting the president or some royal dignitary and crassly using a first name when a title was called for. I bit my lip and nodded as much as I could with my hair still tight in his hand.
I'd been ready a good hour earlier than I was supposed to appear and had called to ask if I could come early rather than just sit and wait. He'd asked me to eat with him. Although I wasn't hungry I jumped at the opportunity to do something traditional with him. Anything ordinary.
Like a date.
Stop it. You know that will never happen between the two of you. And why are you even thinking in those directions? The whole point of this was to not get sucked into the emotional vortex of dating, relationship, and caring too much.
I'd had supper and no more wanted to eat than I wanted to fly, but the opportunity to dine with him. . . to do anything conventional with him was like grabbing on to the moon.
He released his hold on my hair and held out his hand to help me to my feet. “Come on in the kitchen."
I followed, uneasily, unsure, wanting this piece of normal more than anything and not certain why. I was the one who'd sought out this arrangement, the lack of relationship. So why was I so bothered that he'd never be anything more to me? If I really didn't want a boyfriend, why was I so desperate to pretend this man was just that?
I knew why and I couldn't handle the answer. I was falling in love with him. God help me, I was falling in love with my master.
Perhaps I was just muddying the waters between sex and love. Maybe because we were having sex and intense sex at that, I fooled myself into believing the emotions I harbored were the genuine article. Could that be it?
No. I could list the many things I loved about him, big things, little things, everything.
I loved the power in his voice. The way he took command of every situation and the way he took command of me. I loved the smile he often tried to hide when he was pleased with me or the way I responded to him, the way his eyes would twinkle with satisfaction when I'd be close to coming. I loved his intelligence, the knowledge he took for granted, and I savored. But most of all, I loved, that in spite of everything, he had a heart full of goodness. A heart he rarely acknowledged even existed.
I smiled at him, unsure of what he'd just said. I'd been lost in my thoughts of love and an overwhelming sadness blanketed me. I couldn't have it both ways. My master would never love me the way I loved him. He would always see me as nothing more than his submissive, nothing more than a piece of ass. For the first time I felt dirty. And I don't mean in a sexy way, I mean in a cheap one.
At least he used my name. I had negotiated that he call me by name rather than Missy for submissive, like he had with the others he had trained. I wondered about that too. How many had he had? How long did they last? Would I go the way they had? Would he tire of me before the contract was up? Would it just end at the designated time? And how would I handle it when it did?
He'd set the table for two. He went to the fridge and opened it while I stood behind the chair I was to sit on. Should I sit or wait for him? My fingertips reverently edged the plain white plate he regularly ate his meals on. Get a fucking grip. You're losing it.
"Do you want a diet soda or water?” He held the soda bottle in his hand.
"Soda's fine.” Truth be told, I wanted to ask for a drink, a glass of wine or even something stronger, something that would settle my nerves. As his sub I knew how to act, but as a woman having dinner with him, I was clueless. What if I couldn't put together an intelligent thought?
He poured the soda and pointed for me to sit. “Do you like shrimp?"
My jaw dropped. Seafood. My stomach roiled. No way would I be able to handle it. Perceptive as he was, he noticed immediately. “Are
you allergic?"
I nodded.
"No problem. You could have red sauce on the pasta or butter. I should have mentioned what I was making when I invited you. I didn't think. . . . “
"Red sauce would be great. I'm sorry.” He had been making his dinner and I had asked if I could come early thereby almost forcing him to invite me. Shit. I was really fucking up the evening.
He rolled with it, stirred the pasta, pulled out a piece and tested it. I watched the way he placed it in his mouth with his fingers. Fingers that I worshiped, a mouth I ached for. He had no idea how erotic it was watching the few strands of pasta slide past his lips.
I wanted to wrap the pasta around his cock until he was bound by it and then suck it off. That's how I wanted my dinner. I smiled a sincere smile and wondered if he noticed the mischief in my eyes. Would what I was thinking be apparent on my face? He noticed everything, so there was no doubt he'd notice my thoughts wandered.
He let me have my moment and turned back to the pasta. A few minutes later we were eating and he led the conversation. Somehow I responded and hopefully held my own. Still, as he spoke I watched his mouth as it moved, wanting to lick and suck on it, to draw his tongue into my mouth and claim it.
We were in the middle of cleaning up when he turned to me and the tone of his voice changed. “Go to your corner."
My breath lodged in my throat and my feet did a fast click across the floor into his bedroom. I knew the wall I was to face. I'd faced it before and I'd face it again. The wall I'd press my nose to while my body readied for him. Didn't take long, I was wet before I made it to the wall. Within moments I could distinctly hear clothes dropping in the bathroom. Knowing he heard the slightest shift of my feet, I didn't dare move lest I displease him.
I heard the sound of the door closing and the sound of his bathrobe being lifted off of the back of it before his footsteps approached. As they did, my heart beat faster. I wore crotchless underwear and a garter belt. Would he be happy with them or find them tasteless? I felt him beside me. “Hands by your sides. Stand up straight."