Justin chuckled as he watched the nymph reveal her ravenous appetite. He ate his share, too. “Thighs open, slave?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sitting on your ass?”
“Yes, sir.”
Even in the busy pizza parlor, her slave mind controlled her form. She wasn’t yet sure of Justin’s preferred protocol, but so far she had not missed a mark with the man she hoped to call her master. After the last few hours, she suspected that he would collar her soon. Guild meetings were sacred, the holy ground of masters and slaves even if this informal punishment session was beyond the more formal decorum she had come to expect. Once with Michael Pitts at the formal ceremony of induction, an efficient master who thrived on rituals and codes rehearsed her in the Guild’s heavy-handed rules. She liked Justin’s style better. Kept her guessing.
“You’ll served me well, kari.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I need you for the ceremonies. I like the way you perform without hesitation, as though you seamlessly fit into my thoughts. You know my mind as well as I know yours.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s quite a compliment.”
Her insides warmed, her pussy creamed. She felt a rosy glow of satisfaction, though she didn’t understand why he’d give her so much praise. Their relationship was too new. And that was cause to worry.
“There were reasons for today… what you saw cut across the depths of passions I don’t always raise. But you raise them in me because I know how adventurous and yielding you can be.”
She began to quake. These kinds of words were new to her. Michael had thought of her as a stable slave, no better than the norm…not that Justin was implying more, but it seemed that he’d discovered something in her character that Michael had not seen. Enough to make her scared…the fright built excitement.
“I’m going to want your life.”
“My life?”
“All of it, kari. You won’t have a mind by the time I’m finished.”
“What does that mean? More than I am to you now?”
It took some moments for him to answer, and his expression sobered further as he did. “I contemplate desires of darker things I used to toss aside after the imagining. I’m tired of doing that. You’re the slave who will go with me to those depths.”
His words might not be more than a Dom’s fantasy ramblings—she’d heard plenty in two years as a slave. However, Justin Booker’s visions were steeped in primitive passions.
This put pizza in perspective. The joyous tastes turned slightly sour, while her stomach began to grind unhappily. The fun seemed jaded now, but not gone, just different. Just a little scarier, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Body shaking, she pushed the pizza aside, and turned passive, letting her thoughts dwell in the steamy wildness of his eyes. Where would this man go with her, and would she be able to follow?
Justin watched the transformation of this slave, wondering himself if he’d caught her fancy and the bottom core of submissive need. This was a gamble, but he loved the gamble and the stakes if he should win. To lose, he could toss her off like a speck of dust. He knew she’d like that—have stories to tell her slave friends on the Internet. She’d go back on the block in the Guild files as a more experienced slave. Either way, it wouldn’t hurt her and it wouldn’t phase him. The conquest of her darkest needs intrigued him. He’d never gone into a relationship just for the sport of it, but this one especially pleased him, and as long as she played the game, he would enjoy the sadistic pleasure.
Saturday evening at eight o’clock
Pizza in the late afternoon with kari, dinner with Emily at eight o’clock—Diadros Bar & Grill. Coming off the event with the Guild and kari’s wary turn at the end of their date when he set his hooks, Justin found his wife a gentle way to slip into the evening hours. Diadros always put her in the mood for good sex, what he was hoping for. She dressed well, would arrive in something low-cut and slinky—she’d never be sleazy. That was all right with him, kari was sleazy enough for his needs. His wife dressed as classy as her classy mind.
Justin waited for her at their table in the corner where their bimonthly rendezvous nourished a curiously strained marriage—Emily’s idea of therapy. Neither of them was particularly happy, nor were they discontent. Their relationship eased into routine patterns several years before and Justin had too much invested in the S&M portion of his lifestyle to worry if his marriage was failing. He assumed that his wife was reasonably content—though assumptions sometimes miss the mark.
She looked perfect, red hair gleaming by the candlelight of the room; her hazel eyes bright and excited. Perhaps it was just his imagination but Emily seemed different the past couple of days. No explanations.
He couldn’t pinpoint the difference, but he noticed it again as he watched her waltz through the dining room to their table and sit down. She was wearing a blue green sheath, nicely cut, fitting closely to her sensuous curves. If it had been his choice, he’d have raised the hemline a good two inches. However, he didn’t mention things like that to Emily. She wasn’t his slave.
He watched her breasts just above the top of her dress, a gentle jiggle. She noted his inspection.
“You like it?”
“How could I not?”
She seemed pleased.
“Is something special happening in your life? I’ve noticed a difference.”
“Really?” She shook her head bewildered. “I can’t imagine what that would be.”
Her face was oddly flushed and his inspection of her wondering and curious. But he gave up the venture and ordered their meal…as he usually did. Emily found this gesture surprisingly titillating though she never explained exactly why. Perhaps it was the surprise. Perhaps she was more submissive than he believed her to be. He never bothered to ask. They were having lobster bisque, salad with cheese, beef tenderloin and Diadros’ rare combination of vegetables.
Sometimes Justin watched his wife eat, becoming so mesmerized by her beauty that he could hardly eat himself. Hers was not a feral beauty, or even something classic. She was unlike his slaves who were substantive women, earthy and grounded. Emily’s beauty was more ethereal, her subtle splendor often remote, but utterly fascinating. She was a dreamer, whimsical and sometimes frivolous. He often wondered what was inside her mind. What drove her incessant imagination? Her brain was so fertile with thought that he wondered if it ever calmed. On nights like this one, he hoped to capture just some of her beauty for himself.
She was eating potatoes and vegetables, shunning most of the beef, suddenly looking oddly thoughtful. Her next bit of parsley potatoes was poised on her fork.
“Tell me about brit,” she said, then popped the forkful in her mouth.
“What about brit?” he answered back between bites of his New York Strip.
“I’ve read your email,” she said.
“You’ve what?”
“Read your email, Justin. Gone through your personal files.”
She was surprisingly calm, though he was understandably stunned.
“Good lord, what do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said, sweetheart. I’ve been combing your files for days. Tell me about brit.”
“Maybe you already know about brit,” his eyes narrowed with suspicion before he’d give too much away.
“Maybe. But I want to hear it in your words.” Her face was expressionless.
“brit’s my secretary.”
“And what else?”
He put down his fork, staring into her face completely baffled. “She’s my secretary.”
“And your slave.”
“Slave? Where would you get that word?”
“Justin, that is your word. Don’t lie to me. You lead a secret life I know nothing about. And I want to know about it now.”
He considered her question for several moments, totally forgetting dinner. Puzzled, scared and nervous. “You’ve read my email, you’ve poked through my personal files…what on ear
th has gotten in to you?”
“I haven’t poked through your files, Justin, I’ve read them, thoroughly,” she made a point of saying thoroughly.
What threw him most was her amazingly mild behavior. If what she said was true, she should have been stark raving mad! Yet, as the questions moved on in a careful game of cat and mouse, her body seemed to gather in heat and will. Her lustrous eyes gleamed a little more brightly, almost boring into him as if there was something out of the ordinary breeding beneath her effortless façade.
Justin felt her fire. With this surprising message sinking in, he realized that it was no ordinary revelation. She had some ulterior purpose he could not discern. This was not his wife, but some devious clone of a woman he realized now he hardly knew. What could he do but tell the truth. “You’re right, Emily,” he started boldly. “I lead a secret life. brit is my slave. She has been for three years.”
“And you love her?”
“It’s not about love, and it’s not an affair…” he stumbled here, briefly. “It would be too much to explain.”
“She is your sex slave, you’ve collared her and she serves your every whim,” Emily rattled off as if she knew everything.
“For God’s sake, Em. Where did you get such talk?”
“From you, from your secret files, and the websites you spend your nights browsing. I know the lifestyle, I know all the words,” her speech was more avid, but not shrill. “I’ve immersed myself since my discovery, and I know it all…slave training, Gorean rites, D/s, 24/7, the Guild—whatever that is—single-tail whips, corsets, the difference between B&D and S&M. I know the buzzwords, the jargon, and that you, Justin Booker, were a master long before we got married…I’m a safety net, but not your passion. It all makes sense now, every lie we’ve lived for ten years all makes sense.”
Justin could see his life the past ten years draining way, diminishing, disappearing so fast—in a heartbeat it would all be gone, little more than faded memories. He didn’t know whether to be angry or contrite. She’d pilfered his files, spent a good deal of time hacking to find passwords. This was no mere stunt, it was no accident, and look what she’d unearthed!
“I’m sorry, Emily, truly sorry—especially that the information came to you this way.”
“What other way could it come to me? You’d have never told me. I think you like the way things are.”
He shook his head apologetically, “Still, it’s a bad way to learn the truth. I’m sure my life looks desperately deviant to you,” he sighed deeply, “but it is who I am. I can’t change, I won’t. If it’s a divorce you want…I’ll understand.”
“No, no, stop right there,” she put her hand up like a traffic cop. She seemed to have reached some precipice…the edge of a cliff where looking down she’d lose her balance…heart aflutter, face flushed, her emotions rode her shirttails, wildly, crazily on the inside while her exterior seemed reasonable and composed. Yet, she couldn’t look at her husband until she caught her breath, breathed deep and finally stared him in the eye. “I don’t want a divorce, Justin. You misread me if you think I’m upset about your secrets.” She stopped talking, then tried again, but no words came out. Finally, she took a deep breath, then blurted out nervously, “I-I want to be your sex slave.”
A full sixty seconds of silence followed. Hearts stopped beating; the world seemed to slow… Justin’s mind whirled dizzily, rethinking the last few minutes and now this astounding request. “What was that you said?” he finally asked.
“I want to be your slave, Justin. Like brit’s your slave and the new one. I believe her name is kari?”
He heard her now, clear as a cloudless sky. “Why on earth would you say that? This isn’t you.”
“How do you know?”
“I know you.”
“No, you don’t know me—no more than I knew you until three days ago. Do you ever wonder what I think about? What my daydreams are? What my fantasies do to me? You don’t know me because you’ve never been inside my head. You call me flighty and fanciful… out of my mind, but you have no idea where my mind goes, what kind of desperate feelings drive my heart and rouse my passion.” For the first time since the strange conversation began, she looked frightened and unnerved. But she wouldn’t stop. Not after going this far. “I used to think I was crazy with all my perverted thoughts. Then I got on the Internet a year ago and my thinking changed. I’m sure you understand that, knowing the places you’ve traveled there,” she sighed and said the rest, “I’d surf the net… all those fantastical websites…I was so aroused I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was too scared to do anything but lurk on lists and newsgroups…then a week ago, I traced a few stray threads back to you. I found what I needed.”
“And that was?”
“A master, Kevin. You.”
Her beauty hadn’t changed…the same sandy red hair brushing softly against her cheek, the same ethereal sensuality that touched his core, the same quixotic substance, and the same hazel eyes—except now they smoldered strangely. He’d never seen her this way.
His feelings for his wife were crumbling…he was removed from her, not understanding how he’d been so sideswiped by this strange trickster dressed like a woman he thought he loved. As if he never knew her…could she be right? He was overwhelmed and scared—not so she would notice, but so much that he was unnerved where he used to be sure of himself. This was not fair…maybe just a dream…but if it were a dream it wouldn’t feel so real. Her eyes were steady and remarkable, sure and certain. What did she see in him now? Certainly not the master he was with brit and kari—he couldn’t even feel that man inside him now, because it wasn’t right, the attitude didn’t belong in the middle of an ordinary marriage.
“It’s not that easy, Emily.”
“And why not?”
“Because being a slave isn’t something you snap your fingers and then you’re there.”
“How is it different from women on the net who decide they want to be slaves and meet masters every day on-line?”
He had no answer to start. But his gears were changing, his thoughts collecting, his memory going back to just hours before when he was an efficient master, working kari with the darkness borne in the deepest recesses of his lusty spirit. He had to think of her—of kari and brit, take off the garb of Emily’s wifely mien, pretend she was a neophyte slave—which she was—not someone he knew so well.
“There are a lot of women who find those websites you’ve been surfing and think that being a slave is some sensuous, blissful journey into the unknown…but it’s not like that. It’s hard work, rough labor. Depending on how deeply you want to go, it will take some time to find where your true sensibilities lead, if you can go the distance, or it’s something you play with like a child playing dress-up. It’s a serious lifestyle, Emily…”
“I know it’s serious,” she interrupted. “And you’re not taking me seriously.” Her impatience was showing, though his was, too.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Emily, this was not exactly what I was expecting for dinner tonight.”
“I’m sure. But maybe it’s time we really understood each other and why we’re together. I’m sure this is some destiny we’ve just been hiding from.”
Her mystical fatalist streak was at work making sense of the issue within her strange internal schemes, where there were no accidents in life and people were brought together for mysterious purposes. Justin thought in more linear ways, there were choices, consequences and nothing more.
“Don’t go New Age on me. We’re together because the hormones were right at the time, and we found each other pleasing, because I’m good at taking care of you and because I love the way you move. It’s physical and social and not a whole lot more than that. I know you don’t agree with me and I won’t argue the point. But if you want me as your master, you’ll have to accept the way I view the world.”
“Yes, sir.” She seemed pleased saying so. Breathing more easily, she sat back as though she’
d won the war, while he continued to stew unhappily.
“Why on earth are you finding this so simple?” he shook his head in amazement. “Up until an hour ago we were husband and wife… it’s not going to be easy changing our life.”
“And why not?”
“Because every master/slave relationship requires an agreement between the two. You’ve made a proposal, Emily—obviously you’ve been considering this since you happened on my private correspondence. Now it’s my turn to do the thinking.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t call me sir. You’re my wife, and that is all you are until I tell you otherwise.”
“If you don’t trust my sincerity, Justin, I understand that. But I can prove who I am to you. I know what I feel. I know how long I’ve felt this way.” He wasn’t convinced. “I could have been angry seeing this other side of you—turned into a righteous shrew for what you’ve done and who you are—but I would have been as false with you as you’ve been with me. How could I?”
“Enough!” He answered loud enough to draw the attention of those around them, “You’ll give me time to breathe and to think, and we’ll talk more later.”
“But I will convince you, Justin.”
“Don’t count on it,” he said. “But we will work this out together.”
She was so sure, so different from the woman he remembered his wife to be, and as though she’d wiped the slate clean of herself, he could hardly remember that other woman now.
Chapter Four
The following night – After Midnight
Justin didn’t have to knock on the door, he had a key. He should since he paid for the apartment and all the expenses of brit’s life.
He assumed she was asleep now. Days like the one they’d just spent wiped her out. Though she begged for his cruelty, when it was raining down on her she could easily waver. Usually, she tugged his heartstrings enough to make him ease off when he was whipping her, but that didn’t happen at lunch. The scene was brief. He took her through the harsh beginnings quickly with brit protesting, then had her in subspace within minutes. In the end, she was grateful for his cruelty.
His Latest Acquisition Page 5