by Diana Hunter
“There’s Tasha, she’s the tall, blonde and beautiful one of the group. And Paul is the tallest male.” She looked at Phillip with a critical glint in her eye. “Although you might be taller yet. Just don’t ask him if he played basketball in school. He didn’t—and he hates being asked.”
Phillip nodded. “Understood perfectly. I get asked the same question—and before you ask, no, I didn’t either.”
Smiling, she continued her litany. “Martha and Christine are a couple, but no one ever makes a big thing over it. Their sex lives are none of our concern. That’s pretty much how I feel about our sex life as well. What happens at the cottage is none of their business.”
She hadn’t intended to sound so bossy about it, although as she said it, she realized she was being awfully demanding for someone who was trying to see herself as a slave. Maybe she didn’t really have it in her, to totally submit. Being submissive in private was easy—but in public was a whole different question.
Phillip did not comment on her vehemence, but he noted it. Truthfully, he was ambivalent about others knowing as well. The rest of the world saw only their public faces, but wasn’t that true of every relationship? Even ‘normal’ ones? Once a couple went home and shut the doors, society really didn’t want to know. Perhaps someday both he and Sarah might wish for others to know and understand their choices, but the time was not yet right—for either of them.
‘Course it would be different with his friends. The people she would meet tomorrow night already knew about their lifestyle, since they lived similar lives themselves. But he kept quiet about that for now. Tonight was her night and he was going to meet her friends.
“And of course, there’s Beth—she’s been my best friend since grade school, so be ready for her. Sometimes she thinks she’s my mother.” Sarah’s apologetic look made Phillip laugh.
“So I need to charm Beth, bond with Paul, ignore Martha and Christine’s love for one another, and ogle Tasha—do I have that right?”
Now it was Sarah who laughed outright. “Yep. That about does it!”
“So are poor Paul and I the only males in this group?”
She laughed. “I doubt you’ll be the only two tonight. Beth and Paul are an off-again, on-again couple. At the moment, they’re on, so I’m sure he’ll be there. No family, because she’s a transplant here like me. When I found a good job here, she followed me—and we’ve both done well. Martha and Christine, Paul and Beth, and Tasha: those are the only ones I’ll know at the party, but there will be lots of others.”
“There it is—that’s the place.” She pointed to a small, stucco house nestled in among the other houses on the block. There was no room in the driveway, so Phillip pulled alongside the curb opposite, parked and handed Sarah out of the car. Retrieving a bottle of champagne from the back, they crossed the street, arm in arm.
Beth greeted them at the door, her words of welcome for them both, but her eyes for Phillip—appraising eyes, he realized. She was shorter than Sarah, plumper, but with sparkling brown eyes that missed nothing. Bending down, he kissed her cheek as Sarah had done and presented the bottle of champagne.
“For the new homeowner—congratulations.” He bowed, his smile genuine—his first impression of her was favorable.
“Come on in and meet some of the others,” Beth invited. “It’s very informal tonight—I’m barely unpacked. I expect people will be coming and going all night.”
They entered the tiny house and Sarah noted how perfect it was for a single woman. Beth showed them around the downstairs—then took them up and showed off the two bedrooms and bath. Already her own stamp was being made on the place—Sarah noted several objects that had been Beth’s for years scattered about the rooms.
And so they passed the next two hours. Mostly Sarah stayed at Phillip’s side. At first he thought it was because she didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, but when the other three girls she’d spoken of walked in together, Sarah’s relaxation was immediate. It was as if she had been holding her breath all night and now that they were here, she could breathe again. She dragged him over to meet the trio, who, it turned out, all lived near each other and so had brought only one car.
Initially, Phillip thought it was just a matter of a girl showing off her new boyfriend. But as the night progressed, he realized his new slave was tremendously shy. Even with her friends, she tended to be the listener—actively enjoying the conversation, but rarely adding to it. Because Beth was the hostess, she flitted from room to room, group to group. But Sarah stayed put, pleasantly enjoying the company of those who were nearby.
Several times, Phillip’s arm wrapped around her during the night—almost casually each time. The touch of his hand on her waist gave her a warm feeling inside. She hated big parties like this, too many people one didn’t know and not really an atmosphere that provided for anything other than small talk. And she’d never mastered that skill; talking of the weather or the latest football game or someone’s hair loss just never interested her.
At last the evening was winding down; the acquaintances were gone and only the close friends remained. They settled down around the dining room table, telling old stories on one another, filling Phillip’s ear with tales of humor and woe. He took a liking to them—all of them were transplants to the area and they all watched out for one another. He was glad to know that Sarah had such loyal friends.
But even here she did no more than add an occasional comment or two. Paul and Beth were the storytellers, Tasha added forgotten details; apparently the memory of the group—getting the fine points right. Martha and Christine—Phillip was already thinking of them as one entity—added a few stories of their own. Sarah and he seemed to be the audience and that was fine with him. Seeing how she behaved when surrounded by her friends, gave him new insight into her personality.
Kissing Beth at the door as they left, Sarah again tucked her hand into the crook of Phillip’s arm. But not until they were in the car and about a block away did she let out an explosive sigh.
“Been holding that in a while?” Phillip asked.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “Didn’t realize it till just now, but yes, I suppose I have.”
“Nervous about me?”
“Some. Big groups of people aren’t my ‘thing.’“ She turned to face him in the car, twisting her body so she could sit comfortably yet talk directly to him. “Thank you for this, Phillip. I knew I had to go because Beth’s my best friend, but I really wasn’t looking forward to it. Then, when you agreed to go, I knew there’d be at least one person there I could talk to.”
“I hadn’t realized how shy you are.”
She bowed her head, and the same shy smile he had seen all night played about her lips. “My secret is out. I just never know what to say to people! If I can get them talking about themselves, then I’m okay—all I have to do is stand there and listen to them.” She sighed again.
“It’s that submissive side of you, expressing itself in a socially acceptable way.”
For a moment, she watched the scenery, considering. “Yes,” she finally agreed. “Yes, I think you’re right. I can be a take-charge kind of person in situations where I’m comfortable, like at work. It’s my job to command others and I enjoy it there. But elsewhere, I’d rather not. Listening to people has always been my preferred option, instead of telling the stories like Beth.” She laughed. “That’s probably why we’re such good friends—she’s the talker and I’m the listener.”
He flashed a smile at her as they turned onto his road. “We can’t all be talkers—and you’ll find that among my friends tomorrow, I tend to be a listener as well.”
“Will there be a lot of people there?”
“You mean ‘here’,” he told her as he turned up the drive.
“Here? Your friends are coming to the cottage?”
He nodded and parked. She was so excited, she didn’t wait for him to come around and get the door for her. “That’s wonderful. It’s always so muc
h easier to meet people when I have a role to play. Being hostess, like Beth was tonight gives me something to do and say when I don’t know what else to do.”
He laughed at her enthusiasm—and decided to let it slide that she hadn’t let him get her door. It was a small thing, but an act of chivalry he enjoyed. Instead, he caught her hand and led her to the porch, stopping in the moonlight just before the steps.
“It’s too beautiful a night to go in just yet, don’t you think?” he murmured as he pulled her close.
Her stomach fluttered as she tilted her head up to look at him. Pale moonlight glowed on his face, illuminating his eyes, dark with desire. He kissed her, gently at first, then with an increasing pressure as the animal within him struggled for freedom. His tongue touched her lips and she parted them, wanting to taste him. When his hand pulled her shirt from her pants, she helped, still locked in his embrace, wanting to feel his hands on her bare, braless breasts.
With a growl, he pushed up her shirt and engulfed a breast in his massive hand, squeezing it hard. His other hand still wrapped around her, grabbed her ass, crushing her to him. Her mind was being overwhelmed and she let go, giving her body to him, wanting him.
He stepped away from her, almost thrusting her away from him. “Undress for me, slave. Undress now, in the moonlight and show me your naked body.”
She could not refuse. Her eyes locked on his, she rapidly undid the buttons on her shirt, her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breath. She flung the shirt away, then ripped off the pants.
“Stand as you were taught.” The animal banged against the bars of its cage.
She spread her legs to the night air and put her arms behind her, clasping her hands and thrusting out her breasts. Moonlight streamed down and made her luminescent in the darkness. Proudly, she stood naked before him, eager for his touch.
With an oath, Phillip stripped his clothes from his body and in two strides covered the distance between them. Grabbing her, the pent up animal broke the bars of his cage. He put his hand between her legs, her wetness was proof of her own desire to be used. Hooking his finger through the small leather collar, he pulled her toward the porch and cast her at the steps.
Sarah barely caught herself as she fell. Quickly she turned to stare at the man she thought she knew. Lust snarled his features as his face twisted with his need. Sarah had compared him to a lion—but the creature before her now was no playful cub. This was the hunter bringing down his prey. Only once had she caught a glimpse of this animal—and it had frightened her then. Now it was loose and she wanted it, her breath ragged, a whimper in her throat. Phillip’s hand rubbed his cock as it grew hard and thick and Sarah knew the animal would not rest until it had been sated. Lying on the steps, she spread her legs in the moonlight, inviting the beast to consume her.
And he did. With another oath, Phillip flung himself on top of her, entering her in one movement. She cried out as his cock stretched her, pushing relentlessly to bury itself inside her. He pulled out and, growling, thrust in again, taking her hard. Each thrust drove her need deeper and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, her nails making small marks in his skin.
Again and again he drove into her until she thought she would rip in two. Her hips rose to meet each thrust, her mind screaming her need. And then his movements changed—his ascent matched hers. Both of them moaned and growled into the night as he fucked her on the steps of the porch, their passion joining in loud crescendos as they crested together. An owl’s screech echoed their screams as the two of them rode the night, two animals mating.
Stunned, she lay without moving, her body spent, the warmth from him spreading along her. Was she more amazed at him—or at herself for responding to his animal? Her body continued to quiver as small aftershocks pulsed through her.
It took Phillip longer to recover; he waited until the animal faded back and returned to its cage. Once it was safely out of the way, he rolled off her, unable to meet her eyes. What must she think of him? Master or no, he had been tremendously rough with her.
Sarah saw the misery in his eyes. Sitting up, she touched his cheek and pulled his chin up until he looked at her. Then she smiled and he understood that she was not hurt. Why, the little vixen liked it! As comprehension dawned, he sat on the porch, amazed that he’d found a woman who just might be able to handle the wild beast he could not always contain.
There was no need for words between them. Sarah stood and retrieved their clothes from their far-flung places in front of the cottage and returning, entered when he held the door for her. Watching her, Phillip grew hard again, although the animal stayed where it was.
Sarah dumped the clothes in the corner of the bedroom and as he came up behind her, she felt the evidence of his growing need press into her back. She turned to face him, one hand caressing his cock as she watched him, waiting for instructions. How would he use her a second time tonight?
Answering her unspoken question, Phillip put his hands on her shoulders. “Kneel, slave,” he said softly and she knew what he desired.
Obediently she kneeled before him. Patiently she waited for permission before touching him. “Now, slave, suck me. Take me in your mouth.”
His voice was rough and she realized the cage was not locked. The animal that drove him was still very much present. With his come still leaking from between her legs, she took his cock in her mouth, using her hands to knead the stones in his balls. Staying only on the tip, she flicked her tongue over and around it, trying to set the animal loose again.
He came out with a vengeance. Roaring, Phillip thrust himself deep inside her mouth, gagging her. He retreated only long enough for her to recover and thrust in again. Her own juices mingled with his come and dripped down her thigh as he grabbed her head and guided her motions. Relaxing, she let him control her and was rewarded with the familiar salty taste filling her mouth. She swallowed much of it at once, licking the rest from him as his motions slowed, then cleaning her face and swallowing the rest of it as he watched.
If he weren’t so exhausted from two orgasms so close together, the sight of her kneeling on the floor eating his come would have made him hard again. As it was, he barely made it to the side of the bed before his knees gave way. “Come here, slave,” he commanded, his voice husky.
He was only a few steps away and it was easier to crawl on all fours than to stand and then kneel again. Seeing her crawl over to him gave him another rush—my god, what this woman did to him. He hooked a finger through her collar again, pulling her up close to him. “Do you like being my slave, Sarah? Even when I use you so roughly?”
Her head tilted to the side and she smiled up at him. “Yes, Master Phillip. I like being your slave, especially when you use me so roughly.”
“Then come up here, slave. Come to bed now.”
She climbed into the bed beside him, tenderly covering them both with the blankets. The animal inside him slept now, and it wouldn’t be long before he did as well.
“Good night, Master,” she whispered in his ear. “Thank you.”
But if he heard, he gave no indication. He had fallen asleep. Snuggling in next to him, her body tired from the stress of the day and his use of her outside, she soon followed him in slumber.
Chapter Ten
His friends
The two of them spent the next morning cleaning the cottage. Not that it needed cleaning, but as Sarah’s mother would have said, it wasn’t ‘company clean.’ Phillip’s domain was the kitchen and he prepared several trays of veggies, tucking them away in the fridge till later. Sarah discovered he also was a baker–the cheesecake he created looked wonderful.
“The secret, slave, is letting it stay in the oven with the door ajar until the oven is completely cooled.” She had come in from dusting and vacuuming and now stood peering into the open oven door, the heat warming her naked body. “Then you don’t get cracks in the top.”
“Is that how they do it?” she exclaimed. “I’ve only baked a few in my li
fe and figured the cracks came because I didn’t have a fancy oven like one of the pros.” She shook her head at his talents.
He laughed. “Well, I’m no pro, but my aunt used to bake the best cheesecakes in the city and she passed on her tips to me.”
Sometimes he looked like such a little boy, she wanted to go over and hug him. This was one of those moments. It was a cloudy day outside and the kitchen light was on to dispel the gloom. Maybe it was hearing him talk of his aunt, or maybe it was a reflection of the light, but there was a gleam in his eye that belied the existence of the animal she had experienced last night. She hid her smile. And they said women were complicated.
“While it’s cooling, let’s eat lunch—then we have some furniture to move.”
It didn’t take long to make and consume several tuna fish sandwiches. Since that first weekend together, Sarah had discovered the canned seafood was his favorite lunch. Sometimes he liked it spread over crackers, sometimes on bread—but always tuna fish. Knowing it was better for her than the nachos and hot dog she usually ate at home, she was beginning to favor the plain fare herself.
“How many people will be here tonight?” she asked, munching on a pilfered carrot stick.
“Only eight, including us. A small gathering.”
Part of her was relieved, part panicked. She preferred smaller groups, but that meant nowhere to hide. Nowhere but in her role as his hostess.
He saw the look in her eye and guessed which way her thoughts were headed. Reaching over the table, he took her hand. “You’ll do fine. Especially after I train you this afternoon. There are very specific ‘rules,’ if you will, for a slave in the presence of other masters.”
“Other masters?” Butterflies flew in and settled in her stomach—as if she weren’t already nervous enough.
He nodded, finishing off his lunch. “Yes, slave, other masters. I told you my friends were different from yours.” He pushed his chair back and watched her digest the information along with her tuna.