Her Father, My Master: Mentor

by Mallorie Griffin

  I checked the message, careful to angle the phone screen away from my curious father. I didn’t think he would be able to decipher anything from the cryptic message, but still.

  Anxiety.

  I breathed a tiny sigh of relief. With everything that was happening to me, anxiety was an easy emotion to call up. All I had to do was think about college, my future, Mr. Hendricks, and what I was going to do with this neat little mess. I already knew I would stay behind and do as he offered. But in what capacity, exactly? Would I be his slave?

  The idea appealed to me.

  If my parents ever found out, they would be disappointed. I didn’t think they could do anything beyond be disappointed, as I was legally an adult, but they could do to me what they were currently doing to Kandace. My mom spent every moment she could spare on the phone arguing with her, begging her to reconsider her stupid plan to marry that man. I didn’t think I could hold up to that kind of onslaught.

  The very thought made me anxious, which was exactly what I was going for. I left the kitchen, and made my way up to my room. I always tried to be alone for these emotion sessions, as it helped me concentrate better, and proceeded to worry for the next 15 minutes. I was at a good tempo, when my phone buzzed again. Predictably, my master was now ordering me to feel calm.

  This was the difficult part. I cleared my mind, something that became easier the more I practiced, and lay back in my bed. I’d taken to concentrating on building up a calming scene in my head. I would focus on a beach scene, the blue sky, ocean waves crashing at my feet, the burning sensation of hot sand on my skin, the call of the gulls. After I built that scene up, I would move quickly to the next, before my mind could latch onto anything worrisome. I might think of a forest, a river, a jungle, anything.

  These calming sessions passed more and more quickly, the more practiced I became at them. Soon, I felt utterly calm, my mind clear as a summer day.

  Summer. Worries of what would happen in the future began to creep into my mind again.

  Well, perhaps I needed more practice.

  *****

  Finals week was on me before I knew it. My emotional exercises had helped me prepare for this stressful time, but still I felt those more volatile emotions creep around the edges.

  My friends had noticed my calmer demeanor, however. My master had developed a good plan for me.

  “Is everything okay?” Jess asked me at lunch one Tuesday.

  “Of course it is.” Mr. Hendricks had me currently floating on a cloud of contentedness right now. I felt strangely aloof to everyone in school, I’d been on this emotion so long.

  “You just seem kind of weird.”

  “Yeah,” Sophie agreed. “Are you on drugs?”

  “No!” I replied, feeling defensive. Then I composed myself, and thought of lying in bed next to my master, again. After sex with him was when I felt the most content.

  “Are you high?” Ash asked, giggling.

  “No,” I repeated more calmly.

  “Aren’t you worried about exams?” she continued her prodding questions. She was trying to get a rise out of me.

  “No.” It was strange, but I already found myself drifting away from these girls. I knew it had to happen, sooner or later. None of us were going to the same college. Even if I was going to a standard college, which I wasn’t. I was utterly certain that my mind had been made up on this. I was only waiting for graduation, which would happen in just a couple of weeks.

  My heart gave a flutter at that, but I urged calmness back into my body.

  My next exam was Intro to Calculus, which I was fairly certain I aced. I was always fairly good with numbers, a point I took pride in. Girls always talked about how difficult math was, but I thought they were just playing tricks with their own mind. That’s what society told them. Math didn’t have to be hard.

  Still, I was glad for exams to be over with, by the end of the week. Over the past weeks, months even, I’d slowly felt more and more detached from this high school life. I didn’t want any part of it, anymore. I just wanted to be able to move on. I knew I had bigger and better things in my future. It was funny, but I bet my classmates felt the same way, for different reasons.

  *****

  Graduation was a strange affair. I felt like a blimp in my billowing gown, and I could feel tendrils of sweat snaking down my back in the early June heat. It was so long, and utterly boring. The valedictorian (not me, of course) gave a strange rambling speech that seemed to have nothing to do with the student body, and consisted almost completely of sitcom character lines, and then the diplomas were doled out, one by one. It felt like I sat there for hours until I finally was called to make my way up the stage to the principal. At least I could be content with the knowledge that my last name, Waverly, was near the end of the alphabet. The entire ceremony was over in short order, and I fought the throngs of teenagers to find my own parents.

  Stranger still, I could see Mr. Hendricks. But it was so awkward. I kept catching glimpses of him in the crowd, and in the packed bleachers surrounding the football field, but I couldn’t talk to him. It would be difficult to explain to my parents, for one, and I didn’t want to see Maddie. I was still so angry with her, I never wanted to see her again. But her father was my lover. Far more than my lover, in fact. It was such a strange situation.

  I was more anxious for what would happen afterwards, anyways. Mr. Hendricks had told me I could deliver my decision to him after graduation, and I knew what I was going to say. After all this time, the envelope containing my reply to UVA went un-mailed, and the deadline to do so had long passed. For better or for worse, my decision was made.

  And I would get to tell him soon, so soon. With any luck, I would be able to see him tomorrow night, though I wasn’t sure Maddie would go out.

  I did go out with my friends that night, to a party, but my heart wasn’t into it. I could barely remember anything that happened, but there was some drinking, and some drunken escapades. I didn’t participate. I only floated above the scene, detached from all the absurdities my friends participated in. I only wanted it to be Saturday. I wanted to give my answer to my master.

  I would get my chance, and soon.

  *****

  Saturday was quiet. I slept in late, as I had spent the night out late, with my parents’ blessing. I was nervous for most of the day. I wanted my phone to vibrate, I willed Mr. Hendricks to send me a message. I needed to see him. I felt like this answer to his question was burning a hole in my tongue, and the only thing that would ease off the pain would be to spit it out at him.

  At 6 in the evening, I got that fateful message.

  Come to me.

  It was the same message as always, but I felt a tingle of electricity run through my spine. This was it.

  I didn’t have much time, but I’d prepared for this. I just needed to hastily apply my makeup and throw on a set of clothes I’d already picked out for the occasion – a short black skirt and silky, green, low-cut blouse – and I was ready to go.

  I gave my usual excuse and not-quite-lie that I was going to Maddie’s to my parents, and I was off.

  My heart was beating like a drum as I raced down the darkening streets. Mr. Hendricks had to know that tonight was the night I could answer him, and accept his collar. And he had to know what my answer would be. It was blatantly obvious. At least, I thought so.

  His house dark, completely black, and at first I doubted myself. Had he actually sent me a text? I fumbled with my phone, and looked at the chat history, its bright screen lighting up my face. There it was. I had to go to him. It was an order.

  I stepped out of my car, stumbling a bit in my high heels. I didn't even know why I'd chosen to wear these things, they were so clumsy, and it wasn't like I had to impress him. I only needed to impress him when he commanded it, which wasn't often. He didn't seem very focused on physical appearances.

  As I walked down the street, towards his house, it remained as silent and monolithic as it had when I p
assed by. With tentative steps, I walked towards his front door. Then I knocked. There was no answer.

  The front door was open, and I could see into the black maw of the house. But the storm door was shut, and I knew better than to enter my master's house without his permission. So I waited.

  And I waited.

  After so many minutes of this, I began to grow nervous. What was he playing at? Was this a new game?

  I stood stark still on the porch as a new question entered my mind. What if something had happened to him? A heart attack, or even worse? As much as I liked to kid myself about it, I knew he wasn't a young man.

  But surely he wasn't so old that he would be having heart problems. Besides, he was in shape. There was no way to be sure about it, without checking the inside of the house.

  I lifted my hand, and placed it on the brass door handle. The metal felt cool under my skin in the slight spring heat, and I turned the knob. Try as I might though, I just could not open that door. It was almost like there was a physical compulsion overtaking me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't disobey my master like this. I needed his permission to enter.

  Sighing, I dropped my hand heavily back to my side. I was resolved to wait, no matter how long it took. This must be some sort of test.

  I was right. After another 15 minutes or waiting, I received another text message. I pulled my phone back out of my purse, and apprehensively checking it, hoping it wasn't bad news.

  Go around back. The gate's open.

  I looked about with round eyes, first peering into the dark house, then looking at each window in turn. He had to be at one of them, but I couldn't see him at all. I had no choice but to obey. Like I had any other choice in the first place.

  Soon, I was at the back of the house. I'd never been back here before - it was quite secluded, with a very tall wooden fence and privacy hedges that were even taller. There was a red wood deck, and I paced up the steps nervously. I could only guess that he meant me to go through the French doors there, but they were locked. What next?

  It took a few minutes, but I received another text message: Take off your shoes and socks.

  I was only wearing the high heels, and those came off easily, though confusedly. I had a feeling I knew where this was going. At least, I had an inkling. But I had to wait, I had to wait for the order.

  I bounced from foot to foot, the wood rough against the soles of my feet. I wished he would hurry with this particular game. I just wanted to give him my answer, and I was certain he wanted to hear it. My phone buzzed again.

  Skirt. Getting impatient, my pet?

  My bouncing feet froze on the deck as I read the message. He was right, I was getting impatient. Even though he'd been trying to teach me patience for weeks, by making me wait to give him my answer. He was bound and determined to make me wait another 15 minutes, half an hour, hour, or more.

  I stopped my bouncing, and stood serenely still, slipping my skirt downwards obediently. He wanted me to wait. And I would do it, because he was my master.

  Minutes later, my phone buzzed again. I let out a breath that I felt like I'd been holding since I removed my skirt, and checked the phone once again.

  Shirt. Better.

  I smiled slightly. I wanted only to please him, and if this is how he wanted it, I would deliver as best I could. I drew the shirt over my head, and was now clothed only in my sheer thin bra and panties. My nipples hardened against the slight chill in the quickly cooling air, and gooseflesh rose on my arms and legs.

  Suddenly aware of how exposed I was, I looked around worriedly. There were privacy fences and hedges, of course, but it was entirely possible someone could see me. And I had a strong feeling that Mr. Hendricks wasn't about to stop, now that he'd gotten to the good parts.

  I bit my lower lip anxiously as my phone buzzed once again.

  Bra. And drop the purse.

  I nodded, though I wasn't even certain that he could see me, and dropped my small purse, still clutching my phone. Unhooking my bra was somewhat difficult with one of my hands full, but I managed. Soon, my small breasts were fully exposed to the rising moon, the dim light staining them a milky white. I hoped my master like what he saw.

  Whether he did or not, I still had to wait. It seemed like this was the longest wait of all, too. It was many long minutes before my phone buzzed again, and I was beginning to shiver rather violently, my arms hugging my body for warmth.

  Underwear. And drop your phone, too.

  "Yes, master," I whispered, my finger unclenching and letting the phone drop. It hit my purse, then skittered a few inches across the deck. It may had gotten damaged, but I just didn't care.

  I slipped my panties off easily, letting them drop onto the deck. I was naked now. Naked not just to my maser, but the world. If anyone saw me, they would only be able to grasp the utter and complete amount of control Mr. Hendricks exuded over me. It was such an overwhelmingly erotic thought, I couldn't help myself. I closed my eyes and slid my hands over my breasts, moaning softly as I hit those sensitive nubs that were my nipples. I wanted to feel so much more.

  Before I could be any naughtier, and perhaps cross the line to disobedience, I heard the click of a deadbolt being slid home, and a door creaking open. My eyelids flew up, and there he was, at the door. My master.

  I wanted to run to him, feel his embrace, his arms curl around me, his warmth and power, but I knew better. Instead, I froze, waiting for his command.

  For many moments he stood there, staring at me. I blushed, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed, and dropped my head, a curtain of blonde hair falling in my face.

  “Look up at me,” he commanded, and I did so. “You’re not to speak tonight.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but immediately closed it. He gave me a command, and I would have to follow it. I wasn’t to speak at all.

  “Come to me,” he said, and I took small steps towards him. I wanted to run, to fling myself into his arms, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Not tonight. When I crossed the threshold into his house, he shut the doors, leaving my clothes, my phone, my purse, everything that belonged to me outside. In here, there was nothing of mine. Everything belonged to my master, and so did I.

  He took my hand, and led me through the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs, to his bedroom. The usual place. I looked all around me, taking in my surroundings as if with new eyes. I felt so vulnerable and naked, like a newborn. And perhaps, in a way, I was newly born.

  My eyes closed in on that black box on the nightstand. That thing had taunted me all these weeks with unsaid promises, and statements I couldn’t make. The words desperately wanted to spill from my lips as he led me to the bed, but I couldn’t speak. I wanted so badly to tell him he could have me, but he had ordered me not to talk, and I would obey.

  My master now lay me on the bed. He didn’t tie me down, or use any restraint, other than his voice. But that was all he needed. He gave his commands in single words, and I understood them all immediately, and I obeyed.

  “Legs,” he said roughly, and I spread them apart. I could already feel that familiar pulsing throb in my body, my blood sounding a tempo in my veins as it coursed downward, making my clit throb powerfully. I wanted him now. Every other thought was driven from my mind, except for that one.

  He climbed on top of me, facing me. He was still fully clothed, and I could sense the imbalance. His clothes protected him, hid his mood, while I was absolutely vulnerable and at his mercy.

  “Eyes.” I closed my eyes, swallowing. My mouth suddenly felt dry and cottony, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I didn’t think I could speak, even if I was allowed to. I heard a rustling, a movement of some object, and then a click. The box.

  “You know the word, if you object,” he said, speaking his first full sentence of the session. I obediently kept my eyes firmly screwed shut as I felt the cool metal on my skin. The collar. He was collaring me.

  I always imagined this to go differently. I thought I would be abl
e to tell him, verbally accept his offer, and here he was, just taking me, not even knowing whether I wanted it or not.

  Of course, I knew I could reject it. I knew I could sit up, open my eyes, and say that word.

  But I wouldn’t. This is wanted I wanted.

  Still, my heart fluttered and raced as he screwed the metal contraption together, locking it with a tiny silver key than I knew he would keep chained around his neck. I restrained a smile. We would both be wearing things around our necks, from now on.

  After he finished fiddling with the metal ring, I heard another rustle, and felt his rough, chapped lips brush against my neck. “You are mine now. At the end of the summer, you will come here, and live with me.” As he spoke his hands snaked their way up my sides, leaving the usual electricity behind as they settled on my shoulders.

  “But,” he continued, “if you decide at any time during the summer that you don’t want this, all you have to do is say this word.” He whispered a new word into my ear. “Acknowledge.” I nodded silently. I knew the word. It was fittingly paired to my safe word. “Good.” I could almost hear the smile in his voice. “All you have to do is say that word, and you will be released. I will help you get into college at that point, with my connections. But until then, you are mine.”

  He fingered the metal collar with his thick, weathered fingers. “Consider this an engagement collar. I will officially take you as my slave at the end of summer.”

  I nearly replied, but caught my tongue. That was close. I wanted to be perfect for him, from now on. I nodded instead.

  I now felt his lips brush lightly against my own, and I returned the kiss passionately. I wanted to move, to curl my arms and legs around his body, to feel the solidness of his body, but I knew I had to obey his orders and remain still.

  “Very good, my pet,” he said when he pulled away. I kept my eyes closed when I felt his weight leave the bed, not even tempted to open them a crack to see what he was doing. I heard the rustle of fabric though, and I could guess what he had planned.