Jeni knew she had a tendency to jump in both feet first, while Jack would take a calmer, more cautious approach. His response reflected that. Maybe that’s what would make them a good fit.
“I appreciate your saying that, Sir. I mean Master.” She shook her head chagrinned. See? This ‘master’ thing is going to be hard…”
He chuckled, then said with some conviction, “Keep thinking master. You’ll get it soon enough.”
So the “M” word was her challenge, maybe as hard for her as Jack opening the door of his heart. He was quite right, they had a ways to go.
Their second day together ended a little less awkwardly than their first meeting at the house. They sat at the kitchen counter eating the last of a chicken pot pie she’d cooked from scratch the day before. He told her not to make a fuss about food, but she could hardly send him off so close to dinnertime with nothing in his stomach.
When the conversation seemed to lag, she showed him her pictures from France, about which he had a lot to say, and they spent their last hour enjoying an easy back and forth exchange. ‘Vanilla time’ is how she thought of it; they had to navigate that territory, too, if their relationship were to work. It was important to remember that the powerful urges that brought them together would be what sustained them until the relationship had time to mature. Master/slave would always be in the back of their minds, a steady undercurrent present in every moment they were together, and even when they were not. But Master/slave could not be all this relationship was about if it were to last.
There were still a lot of questions marks in her mind about Jack Hawking, but one thing she knew for certain, she wanted him more now than she did the day before, and the week before that when they first met for sex, and the week before that when her eyes first gazed at his handsome face.
Chapter Nine
Jeni couldn’t understand why a simple lifestyle term like master would be so very difficult for her to use, when so much about the Master/slave world made her feel as if she’d come home. The nipple ties, the cuffs and even an ID tag were all easy for her to accept – she couldn’t wait to wear his ring with the property tag dangling from her clit. But unlike the collar, cuffs, and nipple ties, which were easily removed, the tag was not. It would be a 24/7 reminder of her master, as close as she’d get to a permanent fixture, since they’d ruled out branding and tattoos. It was a symbol of his ownership, of slavery, of agreements that seemed as natural to her as long novels of love and loss, dancing into the wee hours, and long walks on sandy beaches. Things her soul demanded of her.
But calling him Master? That was a shock to her system every time she said it. Spoken. Written. Didn’t matter. The word stuck still in her throat and almost made her gag. It still did not feel real and that disturbed her.
Nothing good comes without a glitch; nothing worth anything comes without a challenge. This was a truth she accepted as fact.
Jack had already had a profound effect on her life. Her mind was moving at light speed these days. Her fiction was becoming almost obsessive; new story ideas had to be written down immediately after the thoughts first came to mind or a good plot would vanish as another one took its place. She took a notebook to work and kept it inside her purse should inspiration strike. It was hard to focus on advertising copy with Jack so fixed in her thoughts. She felt as if she’d been divinely blessed with all this beautiful creativity billowing through her. Like a drug, but no drugs involved. If this was what she had to look forward to as a sex slave to Master Hawking, she’d take more of it any day.
Calling Jack Master with meaning and conviction set Jeni’s mind searching for a reason why this small act of respect was so difficult to pull off. Since this was so important to him, she needed to find a solution, and it would haunt her until it did. Every time she practiced saying the word aloud a little piece of her recoiled. Maybe she’d get used to it, maybe not, but she certainly wasn’t going to stop trying.
Her mind remained fixated on the matter, with a lot of powerful emotion fueling this mini crisis. No surprise that her muse began to speak again. The same kind of feeling she’d had in the last couple months when she was overwhelmed by the drama of Jack Hawking couldn’t be stopped. She let it rest for a few days, allowing her feelings to steep, until she couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. Another adrenalin rush of thoughts tumbled out in a rambling essay on shattered beliefs, and fear and the astonishing impact that Jack had had on her entire life. She ended with the question, What do I have to fear? which pretty much summed up her dilemma over that dang master word.
Fear. That was it. Plain as day.
There were times with Jack that she felt as if she’d fallen into a dream. And that dream was so perfect and so real, and tugged on her so deeply that she feared losing herself in the man and the incredible feelings he brought out in her. This was a grand experiment that could easily go awry. She had a right to be afraid of where it would lead, or not. But she refused to let fear stop her from moving forward into a relationship that seemed almost fated from the start. Master Jack Hawking was a gift, not something to dismiss or run from. If that helped her feel more comfortable calling Jack Master, only time would tell. In the meantime, she’d keep on practicing the word. Eventually, it would stick, and she would say it aloud because it felt like the right and real thing to say.
Jack was at his cottage for the next couple weeks – three hours north of where she lived, a little more than two hours from the university. There would be no time for another kinky rendezvous for at least two weeks since his graduate students were joining him for field experience. She was moving forward at light speed. Suddenly he puts on the brakes! She didn’t like it at all.
“Two weeks. Really?” She sat on the edge of her bed, phone in hand. She’d expected to be making plans for the coming weekend and this was not what she hoped for.
“Work, Jeni,” he reminded her.
Good thing he wasn’t there to see the glum, crabby, pissed off look on her face. “Well, I guess I’ll have to suck it up and make peace with your schedule, won’t I?”
“It’ll be good for you,” he returned.
Right. Good for me to sit in my house and think about you all day and night.
“I know, I’m disappointed too. And you might as well know now that I get tunnel vision when I work. There won’t be much time for emails and phone calls. But I promise, I’ll try.”
He would try – not much to go on, but at least he’d give it that old college try. Nothing in her reaction was particularly slavish. Another reason why she was glad he wasn’t there to see the attitude in her body language.
How could he be so managed, so controlled, so restrained when she felt herself dancing off the walls? Part of her problem was the damned blog. She was writing kinky pieces inspired by their relationship at an alarming rate, unable to stop the spiral into her nasty imaginings. She loved that kinky world, and could play there all day, but it was hard to put the brakes on when it came to the relationship. She wanted more of him and it seemed that he was dishing himself out in morsels with a miserly hand. Patience. Patience. Fucking patience!
Her next email:
“Good morning, Master, realizing that you probably won’t get to this for a few days, knowing how busy you are. Just some random thoughts I need to share when you have a moment.
Sunday afternoon was very special, thank you. I’m still vibrating inside, flushed with a bit of a glow. And so different from our first day together, which was wonderful, wild, intense but awkward, too. Didn’t feel much awkwardness this time. There are a couple of marks on my backside I can look at fondly…but none of the soreness I experienced before, although I wouldn’t mind if there were. My nipples and crotch are a little tender. Every time I touch myself in those places and feel that certain twinge, thoughts of you return.
“I am your master and you are my slave. You said that several times, and a warm, glowy feeling rose up in me when you did. But maybe the best part of the day was a
fter sex, when you told me you were content for the first time in a long while.
“I wrote something for you. Obviously, I’m still having a problem saying master, but I am trying. I even repeat it out loud when I’m home – then it starts to sound silly and I’m laughing at myself for making such a big deal of such a small thing. So, here goes another piece written just for you.
“I think of you amidst your trees, in your cottage and by the lake, knowing that you’re busy, but I suspect enjoying yourself whatever you’re doing. I can’t wait to see you again. Can’t lie. I’m disappointed that your schedule is so full at the moment, but I’ll be here, thinking of you. All for now, Your dutiful slave.”
She attached her essay on the “M” word and hit send, hoping for a quick response.
Regarding the “M” Word: I’m on a mission to find the answer to why I can’t say the “M” word.
Why it’s stuck in my throat,
sounds false
seems like a silly affectation of a quirky lifestyle
Yet when I think it, when I think Master now,
something fires off between my thighs.
It turns me steamy,
makes me crave you back inside my bed
But I’m afraid.
Afraid of what it means
Afraid I give myself away to you too easily
That I’m such an open book
That when you write yourself upon my pages, I’ll not bat an eye
I’ll give you anything you ask
You asked verboten things of me
acts that in another life would be mere duty
or worse yet, disgust me
And yet I sucked your cock and ass
and when I did, disgust and duty quickly fled – to my amazement –
and my horny pussy ground itself against the bed
I was hot for you
hot to suck your cock and ass forever
hot for anything you asked of me
I lied to myself about not being oral
You proved me wrong. Threw the truth up in my face
and forced me to admit that about sex, I’m not yet finished
I’ve discovered a new beginning in you
It’s some strange magic you wield with me
the way you claim the dark heart of my unbounded lust
and make that holy darkness bloom.
***
You’ve invaded all my senses
Your scent is clinging to me now
firing up my crotch
making me writhe against the bed – yet one more time
Your bed, your slave – your body now, not my own.
I see your face coming back to me
the way you confront me with a stern knowingness
and talk to me of being owned
and about how I’ve never been owned before,
and how you own me now
Such brutal honesty. Your impeccable logic shatters
a false belief as you force the truth on me and I accept
I hear the low pitch of your voice
and feel how its authority resonates inside me
makes my body tremble
your voice, your words have become my new aphrodisiac
I recall how you stuffed my ass and cunt with dildos
how the hard feel of your hand, holding firmly against my bottom cheeks
tapped a new level of surrender in me
and I am awed by that
My mouth waters reminded of your taste
My tongue longs to lick your lips, your chest, your cock
Oh, and that cock of yours is now a part of me,
like an extension of my mouth
I practiced saying Master,
then came hard against my probing fingers
when I said the word out loud.
It turns me on – that’s true, too.
Takes me right back to my fear
Fear of giving up too much of me to you
when at the same time, that is my heart’s desire.
Fear of losing what I’ve gained if suddenly you’re swept away
What choice do I have now?
Isn’t it true that I’ve already given myself to you – with collar, cuffs and nipple ties?
And an enormous piece of my soul?
Yes, I’m such a slut,
this makes me spasm, too, Master
Yes, Master…
No, Master…
Anything you say, Master –
I’ll keep practicing
If you’re Master, then I am slave
What do I have to fear? END
It took three days before she heard from Jack, during which time she practiced being patient about the slow response. He wouldn’t know about her frustration since she refused to gripe. She didn’t figure slaves would be allowed to bitch about a busy man’s response time – he had warned her that he had tunnel vision. Then finally, his email:
“That hot little piece just jumped out of my email and onto my screen, slave. You’re getting the hang of it. Saying Master will soon be as easy for you as writing hot little rants about the battles with your inner slave. I’m looking forward to hearing it from your lips in person. Soon.”
She was glad to see that he didn’t take her angst all that seriously. She shouldn’t either. Hot little rants. She laughed aloud. So that’s what he thought of what she considered were undisguised examples of her adoration.
Soon. That did have a nice ring to it. Something to focus on.
***
“Jeni,” she heard his deep voice and couldn’t stop smiling. “I want you here Sunday. Does that work?”
Thursday evening. He wanted her up north Sunday. Of course, it worked – she scheduled her entire life around the man. Sure, he could have given her more notice, but that didn’t matter with thoughts of Sunday already lighting up her libido.
“As long as it’s convenient for your schedule, of course,” he added when she didn’t immediately reply. “Sorry for the short notice.”
“Sunday is perfect for me,” she finally jumped right in.
Jeni had no idea what to expect of his ‘city house’ since there’d been no discussion about his home near the University. With a first glance at the property she had to wonder why Jack didn’t think this was important enough to mention. She smiled as she took his driveway up a small hill to the older duplex on the rise above the street. Clearly this was not your typical duplex. It looked nothing like what she expected. The property was secluded from the neighborhood with mature trees abounding all over the hillside – his was the only house on that rise. These trees were not just any trees, but several varieties of Ginkgo, and evergreens she knew were not ones that you’d normally find in the landscape of a city house. There were also Japanese maples, and several shrubs and trees that had been bonsaied into unusual shapes, situated around a free-form Koi pond near the front entry of the mid-century modern house. Either the home had been designed around the setting, or the setting conformed to the design of the house, which was in itself a unique structure made of glass and steel and heavy wood beams; just the sort of property to appeal to a botanist, even if the place hadn’t earned a mention from Jack. He’d talked of his lake cottage many times, giving Jeni the impression that the University house was just a place he crashed when he needed to sleep.
Jack lived in the ground level; the second story apartment belonged to a woman who traveled constantly and was rarely home. As far as Jack was aware, Niki would be in Tanzania for the next two months, giving him plenty of privacy for whatever pursuit he had in mind. By the time Jeni had driven to the top of the driveway, parked on the gravel path and climbed from her car, the beauty of the trees and landscape had closed in around her – as if she’d entered an entirely different world from the one she just left. She couldn’t even see the street below.
She used the door knocker to announce her arrival, and moments later, Jack answered the knock. He was dressed in a dark tee-shirt an
d jeans, looking a little more remote than usual, but very sexy. Just the sight of him and all she wanted to do was tear off his clothes and go over every square inch of that hard, muscled body with her hands and tongue.
Too flustered to even say “hi” Jeni waited until Jack opened the door wider and motioned her inside. She hesitated for one split second then entered cautiously, feeling as if she was penetrating his inner sanctum and her attitude needed to be one of reverence and respect. Not only was the setting new for them, Jack’s demeanor was different. Not that he hadn’t exhibited a steady confidence during their previous afternoons together, he seemed more grounded and relaxed in his own private space.
They stood for a moment in the foyer, with Jeni getting used to the surroundings and Jack getting used to her being inside his home. She stared around at the wood, the glass, the variety of unusual potted plants; many of them orchids arrayed along the foyer’s glass wall like pieces of highly prized art. It was her first glimpse at the man beyond the sexual world in which the two of them played, and she was more than a little in awe.
When the silence between them became awkward, Jeni finally spoke. “So, do I drop to my knees now or wait for your command?”
A flicker of a grin lit up his face. “Dropping to your knees on a slate floor is not advisable,” he said.
“I appreciate your consideration, Master.”
Every time they’d been together was an unfolding mystery, and now in his house, she had no idea what to expect. She continued to observe her surroundings, and finally commented, “This is an amazing place. I didn’t expect anything so, um, so unique. I love it.”
“Thanks. It’s taken some time to get it looking this way. If you have to live in the middle of civilization you might as well find a way to pretend you’re not.”
“I can see, can’t even see the street from up here.”
“Just the way I like it.” He moved around her and closed the front door, then set off through a corridor toward the back of the house, apparently expecting her to follow along. Once they entered his living room, he moved toward the long bank of windows that looked out to the rest of his spectacular yard and its beautiful grove of trees. She stopped just short of him, a couple feet away, wondering what to do next, when Jack promptly answered that question by reaching out and drawing her toward him.
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