Out of the Darkness

by Juliette Banks

  "When you became her Master, what did it mean?"

  He pulled in a slow breath and was quiet for a moment, as if considering his memories before he spoke. "When Naomi and I met, she had already had a Master, a man who was very strict and dominating over her. She had to be very submissive towards him. He made her kneel in front of him, she was not to speak without his consent, and things like that."

  I was surprised. "Did she enjoy it, or was he forcing her?"

  "She enjoyed it at the beginning, but her Master began to demand more and more from her and she felt she couldn't continue to be with him. She told him that it was over between them."

  "So she could do that? He would let her go at her request?"

  "Yes, of course. Being a Master and a submissive, or slave, has to be consensual. Both sides have to be happy with the arrangement. I knew them both while they were together, and I knew that Naomi wasn’t happy. When she left her Master, I was just a friend to her for some time before we decided to take our relationship deeper."

  I considered my question carefully before I asked. "So when you became her Master, what did that entail? Did you make her kneel and not talk, like he did?"

  "I was not as strict as he was, but Naomi wanted to submit to me and was happy with a certain level of my control over her. Her needs were quite strong, and I was happy to take control over her because I loved her. I made most of the decisions affecting us, but I wouldn’t have made any that were in any way hurtful or harmful to Naomi. I didn't believe in sharing her with anyone, for example, even though some couples are happy with that. Naomi enjoyed some bondage and a certain level of physical pain, but I was never brutal with her. It was not something that I could ever consider."

  "So would you consider something similar with me?" I bit my lip, waiting for his response.

  "Is that something you would like? We can talk about it, if you like."

  "I find the idea of having someone taking care of me very appealing, but I'm not sure I want to be submissive all the time. I think I need to have a life separate from that. Can one be a part-time submissive?"

  Chad laughed and ruffled my hair. "So you still like the idea of being an independent young woman some of the time? Could you switch it on and off like that?"

  "Well, I would like to try," I admitted. "I feel so safe with you, and I find much of what we do very erotic, and I know that deep down I have this need to be with someone strong like you, but I would be afraid of losing myself completely."

  "There are no rules for this sort of life. It’s what is agreed between the people involved. Perhaps we could set some ground rules, what people call soft limits. Suppose I said that the moment you stepped into my home, you adopted a submissive persona, how would that seem to you?"

  "So how would I show this submission?" I turned to my side, resting my chin against his chest.

  "When you enter my apartment, you might remove your clothes, for example, and kneel in a submissive pose and await instructions from me. Does that sound like something you would be willing to do?"

  "I think so. It is something that gives me a warm feeling inside, as though I am handing myself over to you, for you to care for me while I am with you. Would I have to call you Master?"

  "I am happy for you to continue calling me Chad. But if it made you happy to call me Master, then I would be happy too. But I don't feel strongly about it."

  I smiled at him. "I would like to call you Master when I am here in your home."

  "Then I would be happy with that, too."

  Suddenly, a thought stopped my smile. "Could I initiate sex, or is it only you as my Master who would decide whether you would make love to me or not?"

  Chad chuckled. "I would consider it tragic if you felt you couldn’t show me how you’re feeling, and that includes showing me you are in a lustful mood, so I guess the answer to that is yes you can initiate it, but as your Master, the decision about anything that takes place here is ultimately up to me. I might decide to punish you for misdemeanors by denying you an orgasm, although I would not like to use that sanction too much, for I love to watch you reach your peak and let go."

  A quiver of anxious anticipation shimmied through my body as I thought about his conversation. "You mention punishing me. Would I be punished in other ways, and what sort of things might you punish me for?"

  "I might punish you for disobeying me, or for being disrespectful, for example. As for methods, apart from orgasm denial, I would, of course, spank you."

  "With your hand, or would you use an instrument, like a cane?"

  Chad stroked my hair softly. "Mostly with my hand, but I might use a hairbrush for more serious misdemeanors. I am not happy about using a cane as they can leave scars if misused, and the last thing I want to do is spoil your beautiful skin. Other than to give it a rosy red hue from time to time," he said, giving me a wink. "Besides, as a model, you couldn’t work with marks on you. And now, my darling Marianne, I think we have talked enough, because all these discussions have left me rock hard and I have an overwhelming need to fuck you again right now."

  "Yes, Master."

  Chapter 4

  So Chad and I began our new relationship. I called it 'submission-lite' when we were away from his apartment. When I was there I didn’t call it anything at all, because for much of the time, I wasn’t allowed to chatter. I could talk when invited to by him and, of course, when we were away from his apartment or at my place we reverted to our previous relationship. When I arrived at his home and was let in by my Master, I stepped inside, divested myself of my clothes, and knelt at his side, eyes down, and waited for his instructions. Many of my model friends would not understand my willingness to hand over so much control to Chad, but I wanted it. In fact, I could honestly say that I needed it. It filled a gap within me that had been cold and unfilled throughout my life; during my childhood when I’d felt unloved and rejected; during my difficult teenage years when I’d been pursued by my step-father; and during my early grownup period when I put myself in the hands of someone who used and abused me purely for his own satisfaction. At last, I had someone who could provide me with the firmness that I craved, but within a warm and loving relationship.

  I loved those evenings at his apartment when we explored it in all its elements, but I also enjoyed, too, the more light-hearted relationship we had away from his home when we could just be boyfriend and girlfriend, albeit still with elements of bondage and discipline when the mood took us—and it did, often.

  I loved particularly the fact that we were able to communicate so well, both with and without words. I’d never met a man with whom I felt so complete and so safe. I loved him, but I didn't know if it was too soon to tell him this. One night, however, after a wonderful lovemaking session at my apartment, I blurted out, "I think I love you, Chad."

  His response was, "You only think you love me? Well, I know I love you."

  I felt so happy. It was the first time in my life that anyone had said that he loved me and it gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling throughout my body.

  We took our first trip together when I had the chance of a modelling assignment in India. Chad decided that he would go along too, and perhaps do some photography of his own. India was a favorite place of his, but for me, it was a whole new experience.

  My shoot took place at the Mysore Palace, in southern India, a beautiful three-story building with marble domes and a huge tower, surrounded by gardens. Permission had been granted to American Vogue for a fashion shoot at the palace, and I was one of three models the magazine had chosen to wear the elegant gowns of several world-famous dress designers to be featured in the magazine. Likewise, the photographer was a world-famous fashion photographer whom Chad liked and respected.

  The magazine had booked the models into a modern eco hotel near Mysore, but Chad and I wanted a traditional Indian hotel, and changed the booking for a suite at the Lalitha Mahal Palace Hotel, a shimmering white palace, built by the Maharajah of Mysore to house his important
guests.

  We had three days of shooting and then Chad and I were planning to stay in India for a further four days. I was looking forward to those few days on our own, so that I could explore a small bit of this fascinating country and see it through Chad's eyes. We had both decided that on this trip, I would just be his girlfriend and we would leave the submissiveness at home, rather than having to cope with switching it off and on while I was working, although he did give me a couple of short spankings while we were there—maintenance spankings, he called them.

  The only punishment spanking came after I had been in an irritable mood and snapped at him, instead of answering him politely. I watched him as he went to his suitcase and returned with a large, wooden hairbrush with a flat back. I gulped and tried to apologize for my temper, but Chad would have none of it.

  "Come here, Marianne, and kneel in front of me."

  I did as he said and sat with my eyes lowered, so that I didn't have to look at the disappointment in his face. But Chad would have none of that, either.

  "Look up at me, Marianne. Do you have something to say to me?"

  "Yes, Sir. I was rude and bad tempered, and I am very sorry for my behavior."

  He nodded his agreement. "Yes, you were. What do you think I should do about it?"

  "I deserve to be spanked, Sir. Would you please spank me?"

  "For once, you and I agree. Come up here over my knee."

  I was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of panties, so didn’t need to undress. I climbed over his knee and Chad made sure that my bottom was in the place he wanted. He pulled my panties part way down my legs and ran his hand over my backside, making me shiver.

  "You’re not to come, Marianne. This is a punishment spanking."

  He then proceeded to slap the hairbrush down on to my bottom, with quick, firm strokes, and I couldn’t help squealing as the brush quickly made my flesh hot and stinging. He gave me twenty strokes, then, as he always did after a spanking, he swung me round on to his lap and gave me a brief cuddle and a kiss, to let me know that my punishment was over and that I was now forgiven. I made sure that I watched my temper after that.

  Mysore is in the south west of the huge country and we knew that we would only be able to see a small part of India on this trip, but I knew after the first day that I wanted to come back and explore some more. We visited temples, palaces, and markets, and bought lengths of silk sari material and gold jewelry for me, and a sherwani coat, decorated with beautiful gold embroidery, for Chad. "Although I'm not sure how much I will be wearing this in New York," he said, grinning.

  At night, we ate sumptuous curries and listened to Indian music before retiring to our room and making glorious love. Chad seemed never to tire of kissing and stroking my naked body. "I don't know what I’ve done to deserve someone as beautiful as you", he told me.

  But I knew that I was the lucky one.

  Those glorious few days came to an end far too soon before work called and we had to return to New York, but I knew that the memories of being in India with Chad would stay with me forever.

  My first year with Chad was the happiest time of my life. We lived in our own little bubble, only venturing out when work necessitated it. And I included as 'work' all the tedious beauty maintenance that, as a model, I was forced to undergo, such as leg waxing, hair styling, skin treatments and suchlike. I found the whole process rather boring, but the competition in the modelling world was ferocious and as the younger girls came along with their long, colt-like legs and their baby soft complexions, it became increasingly necessary to preserve the dew of youth.

  Because of bikini and lingerie shots, I went for the whole Brazilian between my legs, as it was preferred by many of the clients. God forbid that any of the people seeing the shots might think they were looking at adult women, or that a stray hair was in shot. The whole of the industry revolved around youth, although, thankfully, because of the post war baby boom, a greater emphasis on older women was becoming more common than in the past—both as customers and as models.

  Chad loved that I was as smooth as a baby between my legs, and would sometimes shave me between waxings, claiming that he found the experience intensely erotic, as did I, and the shaving session was swiftly followed by a session of a different sort. I no longer had any inhibitions with him and when he asked me if he could take some shots of me nude, I had no hesitation.

  "Baby, you know you can trust me with your life, don't you? I would sooner slit my throat than allow anyone else to see the photographs."

  "Chad, of course I trust you." I did, too. I knew that whatever happened between us, he would never go running to the press with them. We decided that he would take them at the weekend.

  I arrived at his apartment and, as usual, he let me in and I immediately removed my clothes and fell to my knees in a submissive pose.

  He stroked the top of my hair in greeting. "Hello, my darling. I am so glad to see you. We have all weekend to ourselves. Let's just have a glass of wine and chat, and you can tell me about your day."

  We ended up having two glasses of red and I felt relaxed and cocooned as I sat naked on his lap, with his strong arms around me.

  "Are you ready for your pictures? I have set out an area for you."

  He led me to a corner of his studio where he had a large, deep pile black rug, with a plain grey background on the walls.

  "I have a few props which I may or may not use. We’ll see as we go along. I don't like to plan ahead too much," he explained, gesturing to a few items collected to the side. There were a few cushions, a simple, modern, sleek rocking chair in grey suede, some lengths of exotic material that we had bought as saris in India, and a few other things.

  Chad brushed my hair so that it fell loose down my back, and then fluffed it up a little as though I had recently got out of bed. "I love that look you have when you wake up in the morning."

  He fetched my make-up bag and a mirror. "Not very much make-up," he instructed. "Just put some kohl around your eyes and smudge it a bit, and a little lip-gloss. I think that will be sufficient."

  Finally, I was ready. Chad was shooting dozens of shots while I was preparing, checking the light levels and getting me into a more relaxed frame of mind.

  "Now, my darling, shall we start? Try to be as uninhibited as you can and don't worry about showing the more intimate bits of you. I’ll delete most of those. I'm not looking for a spread in a Lad's Mag, but something more sensual and artistic."

  He put on some soft and sexy music and began to shoot, while I tried to move and pose in the way that he wanted me to. To start with, I was simply lying on the black rug, first stretched out, and then curled up, or kneeling, and finally lying on my side. All the time, Chad was talking to me in his wonderful sexy voice. I wondered if there was any glistening moisture showing between my legs, because I was certainly becoming aroused. And judging by the bulge in Chad's jeans, so was he.

  Next he put me onto the grey suede modern rocker and walked around me, taking shots from different angles as I lounged, curled, and stretched on the chair. He decided not to use the fancy material because he thought it would be too distracting, but he had me use a few of the cushions to arrange my body in various poses. Some of the poses were submissive in nature and others less so.

  Finally, after two hours, and another glass of wine, we were done and were both exhausted.

  "I think I've got some wonderful shots there, Marianne. I'm too tired to do anything with them, but I’ll download them on to my laptop for extra security, in case I accidentally delete them, and then we can have some dinner. I have a couple of days free, so I'll sort them and get rid of the bad ones, and decide which are the best ones to print. Then you can see them—but not before then, because I don't want you influencing my choices. Now, let's order in some Indian food and while we’re waiting, you can come here and suck my cock for me. It's been rock hard for the last two hours. Then after we’ve eaten, I’ll attend to you. You deserve a reward for your work an
d I know just how to give you one." He winked at me in a deliciously dirty way.

  I was working away for two days after that, and when I returned, Chad was busy with a job, so it was the following weekend before I got to see the fruits of our labor. He had narrowed his selection down to thirty shots, and the rest had already been deleted from both his camera and laptop. I sat on the sofa and looked at them on the laptop, while Chad sat and looked at me to see my reaction. I was stunned by some of them. As used as I was to seeing myself in all manner of poses for perfume, clothing, and swimwear, I had never seen myself as Chad had seen me.

  I looked like a woman in love. I looked like a woman in thrall to her Master, and I looked like a woman who was offering her whole being, body and soul, to the man holding the camera. On many of the shots my face was in shadow and I was probably not identifiable, except by Chad and myself, but on others, my face was shown in full and the sensuality and sexual abandon shining from my face on one of them, made me catch my breath.

  "Oh, wow!" I breathed. "I never realized I looked like this. They are amazing, Chad… Master."

  "You are amazing, lovely child. When I’m an old man, I’ll look at these and remember the beautiful woman who once lit up my life."

  I scrambled over to where he was sitting and knelt on the floor between his legs, and laid my cheek against his inner thigh. "You won't need to remember, because I will still be there beside you, even if my skin is wrinkled, and I creak with arthritis when you try to tie me down. You won't need to look at photographs because you’ll be able to look at me. I’ll be right before you, naked and submissive."

  He stroked my head gently. "Bless you, my little submissive, but don't forget that when you are wrinkled and arthritic, I will most likely have already left this world."

  He spoke lightly, and with a tinge of humor, but we both knew that I would not be able to catch up on those twenty-three years of life that he had already lived before I was born. The realization made me feel very sad.