The Master

by Ashe Barker

  She would never forget the look of disappointment on Dylan’s face as she had stumbled clumsily out of his car when he’d dropped her home. He had waited outside until she was safely in her flat before screeching off, leaving her alone and devastated. In a daze, she had headed straight to the kitchen and dug out a bottle of vodka that she had hidden away for emergencies. On reflection, she should never have drunk so much, but it had numbed the pain at the time and helped her forget. She had no idea how the hell she had made it to bed—the last thing she remembered was throwing up in the toilet.

  It was too late for regrets now. She should have known better and now she was paying dearly for her stupid recklessness. Her tired and swollen eyes fluttered, and she drifted into that fuzzy space between sleep and wakefulness where nothing really mattered. Then she suddenly found herself staring at a giant wolf, its teeth bared and ears back, ready to attack. In a scrambled attempt to escape, she started to run, but her legs became so heavy that she couldn’t move them. She sought shelter in an old building, slammed the door, and pressed her body against it to keep it shut. Then the wolf started banging on the door, over and over until she sat bolt upright in her bed, drenched in sweat and tears. The relief that it had been a dream only lasted a second, though, as the knocking continued, loud and persistent. Gradually, the panic subsided as she realised that the noise was coming from her front door.

  Still panting from her nightmare, she hauled herself out of bed and headed into the hallway on wobbly legs. When she threw the door open she wished she hadn’t. Dylan glared at her, his arms folded, and her heart broke all over again.

  “What do you want?”

  “I was worried about you.” He ignored her scowl and walked past her into her flat. “You should have been at the gym two hours ago.”

  “Oh. What time is it?” She turned away from him and staggered into the kitchen. She needed more water.

  “Just gone one o’clock. What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

  Jodie didn’t have the strength to argue so she shook her head and reached for a glass, but dropped it into the sink before she could fill it.

  “Sit down,” ordered Dylan and picked up the glass. He filled it with cold water then placed it on the kitchen table, next to the half empty bottle of vodka.

  “You’re a mess and you smell like a brewery.” He sat down opposite her and gave her a hard stare.

  “Thanks.” She gulped down the water then cast him a sideways glance. His face was stern, his lips pressed into a tight line, but his brows were furrowed as if he was worried. She wished more than ever that he would wrap his arms around her and make everything all right again. She had never needed anyone as much as she needed him right now, but he didn’t want her. He’d made that perfectly clear last night. Her throat tightened as fresh tears threatened to strip her of her last shred of pride. She rose abruptly, scraping the chair on the wooden floor, then strode over to the sink to refill her glass. She’d be damned if she would let him see how upset she was.

  “Go and get a shower while I make you some tea,” he said, his voice a little less harsh than it had been a moment ago.

  Jodie opened her mouth to tell him she would do so when she was good and ready, but Dylan pointed to the door. “Shower. Now.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  It wasn’t until she was standing beneath the steaming water that she realised she’d called him ‘Sir.’ Damn. What would he be thinking right now? He must be seriously angry with her. She was in no doubt that if he had still been her dom he would have punished her, although, if he was still her dom she would never have gotten drunk in the first place. She wished he would punish her. She needed his discipline and craved the pain that she had earned. And, more than anything, she longed for the aftercare, the moment when he took her in his arms and kissed away her tears.

  It was only now that she was beginning to realise the true extent of her feelings for Dylan. Feelings that went far deeper than she had ever imagined she was capable of. A complex cocktail of devotion to her dom, a willingness to surrender completely to her master mixed with a love that was so strong she would do anything for him. Love?

  She choked on a sob as she stuck her head under the jet of water to hide from the truth. When she turned the shower off, the word had been buried again. This was no time to dwell on her emotions—she had enough problems to deal with, like an angry coach and a blackmailing asshole sponsor. Not to mention the most important competition of her career in just nine days’ time.

  She waited until she had regained her composure before returning to the kitchen, although her head still felt like it was about to explode. She glanced at the table and noticed that the bottle of vodka had gone. She didn’t dare ask him what he’d done with it. In its place was a mug of steaming tea, some buttered toast, and two painkillers. Dylan had opened the window, letting in fresh air that smelled of sunshine and cut grass.

  “Feeling any better?” he asked, as she sat down at the table.

  “Yes, thank you. Dylan, I’m sorry about… you know… about this.”

  “You mean for going back on our agreement and getting drunk when you’re just a week and a half away from the nationals?”

  She hung her head and pushed the toast around on the plate. “Yeah.”

  “Jodie, you can’t afford this kind of fuck-up. Do not let it happen again. Take the rest of the day off. You’re in no fit state to train, but you had better be in the gym on time tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, I will.” She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the anger and disappointment that his voice had already given away.

  Dylan rose then picked up his jacket. “I’ll leave you to sleep your hangover off. See you in the morning.”

  “Yeah, see you.”

  Her front door clicked shut and Jodie stared at it for a long time after. She had never felt more alone than she did at that moment. Leaving the tea and toast, she headed back to her bedroom and crawled back under her duvet. At least if she was asleep she wouldn’t be able to dwell on how disastrous her life was right now.

  * * *

  Jodie more than made up for her lapse in judgement for the rest of that week. She gave Dylan everything she had, turning up early at the gym and working harder than she had ever done before. There was no way he could fault her technique and he hadn’t stood a chance against her during sparring practice. It was Friday now and their session had just finished. She bowed to him then headed to the changing room. Everyone else had gone and, as usual, it was just the two of them left in the training hall. She folded her dobok neatly then stuffed it into her holdall. Poor Dylan. She had taken her bad mood out on him in the dojang and almost annihilated him. On the surface, though, she had been cordial and respectful, giving him no reason to question her. Secretly, she had arrived early each morning and given the punch bag a good hammering before Dylan got there.

  Once home in the solitary silence of her flat, though, she had been on a rollercoaster ride of tears and anger. She couldn’t sleep and often forgot to eat as she tried to balance the pain of losing Dylan with her hatred of George Hartwell. One minute she was defiant and adamant that she was going to ignore his demands and do everything she could to impress the Olympic selectors at the nationals, the next she feared for her career as visions of Hartwell’s threats taunted her. She still hadn’t heard from him since that ill-fated board meeting, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he let her know what he wanted next.

  “Jodie? Are you okay in there?” Dylan’s voice made her jump. She had lapsed back into the trance-like state that she seemed to retreat to more and more these days.

  “Yes, I’ll be right out,” she called. She picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and fixed a false smile on her face before going back out to Dylan.

  “Good work today,” he said, falling into step with her as she marched toward the exit.

  “Thanks.”

  “Jodie, wait.”

  She stopped, but didn’t
say anything. All she wanted was to go home so she could be alone with her misery again. Every minute she was with Dylan was killing her. Just being in the same room as him made her heart ache so much that it felt like it was being shattered into a million pieces.

  Dylan shifted next to her and cleared his throat. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem… distant.”

  She gave him a curt nod and said, “I’m fine.”

  He didn’t look convinced, but that was tough. “Hmm. Get some rest this weekend. Do your gym workout tomorrow morning then go get a massage. Take Sunday off, so you’re rested and ready for next week. We have one more training session on Monday then we’ll set off for Sheffield early on Tuesday morning.”

  “Okay. See you on Monday,” she replied, her voice flat.

  When she got home, she made some tomato soup. Well, she opened a can and heated it in the microwave, then left it to get cold. She wasn’t hungry. After hopping through every channel on the TV, she picked up her phone and stared at it. Then she started to type a message:

  Dylan. You’re right, there is something wrong and I can’t keep it to myself any longer.

  She deleted it and started again.

  Dylan. Can we meet? There’s something I need to tell you.

  No, she would chicken out by the time she met him. She deleted that as well.

  Dylan. The reason I’ve been losing the competitions is because George Hartwell is blackmailing me. Please come over. I really need to talk to you.

  Her finger hovered over the send button for several minutes, but when it came to it, she couldn’t do it. With a sigh, she deleted the words and switched her phone off. She couldn’t risk Dylan’s career by telling him everything now. It had gone too far.

  * * *

  The next morning, she arrived at the gym as it was opening. Two hours later and dripping in sweat, she left and walked the mile and a half journey home. After showering and changing, it was still only midday. She was bored and restless. She needed something to distract her, something to look forward to.

  She missed Dylan and she longed for the D/s dynamic they had shared. If only she could escape into the fluffy world of subspace, where nothing mattered and everything was perfect. But she needed pain for that and she wasn’t going to get it from Dylan. The seed of an idea started to form in her head, but she quickly quashed it. No! Absolutely not! But now that it had been planted, it wouldn’t go away. What if she went to Club Sin and found someone to spank her? Just enough to numb the edge of her torment and help her to forget her problems.

  She grabbed her phone and called Sally, but it went to voicemail so she sent a text.

  Hey Sal. Do you fancy a night out at Club Sin tonight? x

  She knew that going out was the last thing she should be doing given the nationals were only days away, but she was past caring. If Dylan wouldn’t give her what she needed she would find someone who would. Her phone pinged.

  Hiya. You shouldn’t go out. Stay home and we’ll go after your competition. x

  Fine, I’ll go by myself.

  No, you bloody won’t. Ok, c u there at ten x

  Jodie smiled. She knew that would do the trick. Sally was a good friend and always looked out for her. It had crossed her mind to tell her about George Hartwell, but Sally was such a fiery woman that she would probably storm into Hartwell’s office and have it out with him. The fact that Sally’s boss knew him didn’t help either so Jodie had kept quiet.

  The rest of the day dragged by until, finally, it was time to get ready. As she waited for the cab to arrive, she stared at herself in the mirror, but didn’t get the rush of excitement she usually got when she went out. She felt flat, but at least she would have a few hours ahead where she could forget all her worries. She intended to get drunk and to find someone who would give her a good time.

  At ten o’clock she hugged Sally as they queued to get in to the club.

  “You look great, but have you lost weight?” her friend asked with a concerned frown.

  Jodie shrugged. She was wearing the same red latex dress she had worn the time she had bumped into Dylan and it did seem a little less clingy. “I’ve no idea and I don’t care.”

  “Don’t forget you need to stay within your weight category. Babe, are you okay? You don’t look yourself.”

  “I’m fine and I’ll be even better when we’re inside checking out the doms.”

  Sally gave her a puzzled look. “What about your coach? I thought he was your dom now?”

  “Yeah, so did I,” snapped Jodie.

  When they were inside, Jodie headed straight for the bar and bought two double vodka and colas. “Here,” she said, handing one to Sally.

  “What is it?”

  “Vodka. Come on, let’s check out who’s here.” Jodie linked her arm through Sally’s then led her toward the play area.

  “This is more like it,” Jodie said, grinning as she pointed toward a spanking bench with a half-naked woman draped over it. Her bottom was glowing and her dom looked like he was only just getting started. As they watched, Jodie breathed in the familiar smell—leather, rubber, and sex. How she’d missed this. And the sounds of slaps on bare skin that echoed over the lowered music, along with the groans and moans of horny submissives. She closed her eyes and drank in the atmosphere. Tonight, she was going to be a part of it and Dylan could go to hell.

  “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass to Sally’s. It didn’t take her long to down the drink before heading back for more. After her fourth, she lost count of how many she’d had. They mingled amongst the fellow kinksters, danced a bit then watched a few of the sexy scenes in the dungeon area. She felt fantastic, although Sally didn’t seem to share her sense of fun, and looked annoyingly like she was still sober.

  “Why don’t we nip to the loos to freshen up?” asked Sally, when Jodie had emptied yet another glass.

  “Good idea. I could do with a pee.” Jodie grinned as if Sally was a genius for suggesting it. They pushed through the crowd dancing to the thumping house music and made their way to a quieter part of the club where the toilets were.

  “Let me hold your bag for you,” said Sally, taking it from Jodie’s hand before she staggered into a cubicle.

  “Thanks.”

  It took much longer for Jodie to get her dress smoothed out after using the toilet. Despite the fact that she was tipsy, she was still aware enough to make sure she wasn’t showing any bits that shouldn’t be on display. Well, at least until some dom pulled her dress up to spank her.

  As soon as they left the cool corridor leading to the restrooms, they were hit with a blast of hot, humid air. The club was heating up nicely.

  “Why don’t we sit here and chill for a bit,” shouted Sally as they passed a seating area.

  “No way, we can chill when we’re old. We’re here to have fun. Come on, let’s get some more drinks.”

  Sally rolled her eyes and followed Jodie, who was already pushing her way to the front of the queue. Ten minutes later and with fresh drinks in their hands, they crossed the room, which was now a lot busier than it had been when they’d got there. Moist heat clung to gyrating bodies that bumped into them as they tried to manoeuvre through to the other side. On the way, Jodie spotted a pair of doms she knew and nudged Sally.

  “Look, there’s Nico and Joseph. Let’s go and chat them up.”

  Before Sally could respond, Jodie sauntered up to the two doms and slapped first Joseph then Nico on their backs. “Hello, boys. How’s it going?”

  “Jodie! We haven’t seen you in a while. Are you well?” asked Joseph. He had spanked her once before and was a pretty good dom. He would do nicely.

  Jodie giggled. “Really well, thank you. Me and my friend Sally have come in the hope of a bit of kink tonight, haven’t we, Sal?”

  Sally took a sip of her drink and shrugged. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “So, boys, which one of you is going to top me tonight? Or are you both up for it?” She hiccupped through a gi
ggle, and tried to steady her gaze on them.

  Nico gave Jodie a strange look. “Are you drunk, Jodie?”

  “Nooo, of course not. Hey…”

  She squealed in protest as Sally dragged her away while giving the doms an apologetic wave. Jodie pulled her arm away from Sally’s and scowled. “Don’t be such a spoilsport. I don’t know about you, but I’ve come to play. I need another drink.”

  “Jodie, don’t be silly. I think we should leave before you do something you’ll regret.” Sally tried to steer her away from the bar, but Jodie wasn’t having any of it.

  “We’re not going anywhere. Two large vodka and colas, please,” she shouted to the barman.

  Armed with a fresh drink, Jodie wandered back to the dungeon area, knowing Sally would follow. They stopped to watch a rope scene that had just started. The domme’s rigging was deft and impressive—she clearly knew what she was doing. By the time she had threaded the rope through a hook hanging from a chain in the ceiling, her bound victim was helpless and lost in rope space as the domme carefully suspended her in the air.

  “Wow, I’d love to try that,” murmured Sally.

  “I wouldn’t,” replied Jodie, tilting her head so she could see the sub’s face as she hung upside down. “Give me a good spanking any day.”

  “Shh.” A woman next to them glared at Jodie.

  “Sorry,” said Jodie in an exaggerated whisper. She grabbed Sally’s arm and pulled her away from the watching crowd. “Come on, let’s go find some doms who are up for some action.”