Submissive to Her Master - The Box Set Read online

  He lifts my chin with a finger, forcing me eye to eye with him. “I’m a bad boy I am. I’m no maiden’s payer, but you know what? You’re still alive. You should have been dead three hours ago, and yet here you are, sweaty and honeyed up after the best sex you’ve ever had. And I’ve barely touched you.”

  I gulp at the whiskey. He’s making a lot of sense in a ‘Down the Rabbit Hole - Wonderland’ kind of way.

  “As I see it, “he continues, “there’s three ways this could go from here.” He counts off on his fingers. “One. I walk out of here. You never see me again, and in, oh, about a week, you’re standing on the edge of that bridge again, wondering if it was all a dream.”

  I swill down another mouthful of whiskey.

  “Two.” He counts off another finger. “You and me get all lovey-dovey and hitch-up.” He cocks his head at me. “That’s never gonna happen. You and me. We’re like chalk and cheese, and I’m a rolling stone.”

  I stare at the ground, feeling a little sick.

  “Three.” He pauses, staring straight at me. “Three. You do what I say for the next few days, and I’ll show you a side of life you’ve never seen. I’ll stretch you in ways you never dreamed of, or maybe you did dream, but thought you’d never do.”

  He comes close. Really close, his chin resting on the top of my head as he speaks, one arm lightly around my shoulders. “You don’t really want to die. You want to live, but you don’t know how. I’ll show you, if that’s what you want.”

  I nod. “Mmmm.” That is what I want.

  “There’s rules.” he says. “It won’t be half and half. If we do this... If you do this, I’m in charge. You do as I say, or the whole thing’s off. I’m not going to be made a fool of by a woman who chickens out when she’s tested a bit.”

  That Dutch Courage I was looking for, finally filters out from the alcohol. Right now, I’ll agree to anything he says if it gets me a repeat of the mind-blowing orgasm I just experienced.

  “I’ll do it. You lead the way. Just tell me what to do. I’ll do anything you say.” I toss back the last of my drink. “I wish I’d met you years ago.”

  He laughs; a short, sharp cough of a laugh. “You know what they say. Be careful what you wish for... I’ll take you on the ride of a lifetime, but make no mistake.” He jabs a finger at me. “You might not like it all. But that’s the point. You’ve lived too safely. You’re jaded. You need to live on the edge a bit.”

  I don’t understand him, but I don’t care. “I’ll do whatever you say.” I repeat.

  “Okay. Well you can start by finishing me off.”

  I stare blankly at him. He looks pityingly at me. “I tongue-fucked you ‘til you came. So come over here and now it’s my turn.” He crooks a finger at me. I move close, standing in front of him. The finger twists and points down. “On your knees.” he says quietly.

  The front of his jeans are bulging. “Come on then.” he says. “You just told me you’d do anything I say. Get it out and start sucking.”

  I unbelt, and then with some difficulty, unzip the jeans, the zip made tight by the tension of his erection.

  Extracting Brin’s quivering cock, I test it with my lips, wrapping my mouth around the head. I have never done this before either and am a bit unsure about how to go on. But the skin is silky and warm and it smells alive, musky, male, enticing.

  Brin sees my uncertainty and takes the lead. Pulling away from me for a moment, he shrugs off the jeans and kicks them to one side, then shoves his cock at my mouth. “Open wide.” he says, grabbing me around the back of the head so that I cannot move, then pushing inwards.

  Struggling with the thick and pulsing shaft shoved between my teeth, I have trouble sucking it. My jaws don’t seem able to open wide enough. My lips and tongue can’t manoeuvre.

  He pulls out a little, guiding me with a hand entangled in my hair. “Use your tongue. Around the head and on the ridge.”

  I try to obey, lapping and mouthing at the thick shaft, and beginning to enjoy myself. There is a thin seeping from the tip and I lick it away, sucking like a kid with a lolly.

  Never would I have done this in my previous life, but now, the sheer dominance of Brin over me seems like a kind of permission to enjoy myself.

  He strokes my hair. “That’s my Girl. Just keep that up. Use your hands as well if you want to.”

  I see what he means. Using both hands, I hold his erection at the base, steadying it enough that my lips and tongue can concentrate on savouring this satiny flesh. His scent grows stronger, a perfume of arousal and sex. A little sweaty but not unpleasant.

  The seepage grows, flowing across my tongue; a briny, bitter-sweet flavour like nothing else I have tasted, and I lap eagerly at it.

  “You’ll get the full load in a minute.” he says. “You’re going to take it and swallow.”

  He begins to tremble around the hips, a shaking tension that transmits through his cock. I can almost taste the mounting pressure. Abruptly, he seizes my head more tightly, twisting his fingers into my hair. He starts to thrust, forcing his way in, towards the back of my throat. Panicking, I wonder how far he will force himself in.

  “Don’t lose your cool.” he says, his voice tight with self-restraint. “I won’t take you too far yet, but you’ve got to learn to go with it. You are going to swallow my cum.” He sounds raggy and strained, struggling to maintain control.

  With a gasp and a heave, he judders, grinding his hips and balls against my face. Hot cream shoots into my mouth, flooding my tongue, dribbling a little through my lips. I can’t swallow with his cock so deep in my mouth, my throat, and I start to cough and splutter, but as his orgasm subsides, he pulls partly out, leaving the still seeping head between my lips. “Finish it off.” he says. And I swallow hard, licking the escaped cum from my lips.

  “Now clean me up.”

  Licking his still erect shaft clean and silky-dry, I lap up the sticky fluid still oozing from the head.

  He nods his head in acknowledgment. “Pretty good. You’re not done that before either have you?”

  I shake my head, trying to wipe my own mouth clean.

  “It shows,” he continues. “But don’t worry. That wasn’t half bad for a first effort.”

  He offers me a hand, helping me to my feet. “You still up for it? Want to see some real life instead of the sham you’ve been living?”

  Do I? Oh my God. Yes!

  “Oh yes, but I’m not sure what you expect of me.”

  “You’ll do anything I tell you to do - and I will be telling you, not asking.”

  “You will tell me? You want me to be your.... your slave?”

  He stares up at the ceiling. “Yes, I suppose that’s it. I will be your ‘Master’. You will do whatever I tell you, when I tell you. Or... you can go back to the way you were. And the next time I won’t be there to stop you jumping off that bridge.”

  I am scared, excited, aroused, all at the same time.

  “You won’t... you won’t hurt me?”

  He pauses, clearly choosing his words. “I’ll test you. And I’ll make you do things that you wouldn’t have done otherwise. And some of them will be things that you don’t want to do, at least at first. But...”

  He jabs a finger at me. “Some of them will be things which, I think, you probably secretly wanted to do, and I am giving you permission to do them. And you will feel free to do them, and to enjoy them, when if the ‘previous you’ would not have considered them, even been forbidden them. Do you understand me?”

  Dumbly I nod. “Yes, I understand.”

  He grins. “Don’t look so serious. Come on, admit it. You just sucked off a man for the first time in your life and you loved it.” His hand probes between my legs. “Yup, as I thought. Dripping.”

  And he’s right again. His hand between my legs sends an electric bolt up through my core. Involuntarily, I gasp a breath and my heart is suddenly pounding again.

  Brin whispers, close by my ear. “Yeah, you’re not done yet are you? Didn’t think so, but I’m going to take a bit of a back seat now.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t....”

  He sits, almost sprawls on the settee. “You, on the floor where I can see you.” He points to the carpet in front of him.

  Puzzled, I sit at his feet.

  “No, not like that. I said I want to see you. Lie back, legs up by me. Now spread ‘em. I want to see your pussy. Get rid of the skirt.”

  Torn between flushing with embarrassment, and flushing with excitement, I obey him.

  “Knees wider.” He grabs my ankles, hiking one up either side of him, then passes down a cushion. “Put that under your hips. You’ll be more comfortable and I’ll have a better view.”

  I obey him, then accept another that he passes down to me. “Shove that under your head. I don’t want you looking at the ceiling. I want to looking at me, or at what you’re doing.”

  “What am I doing?”

  “You’re still ready to get off again. I’m going to watch while you do it. I might decide to help. Or I might just watch.”

  Unbelieving, “You want me to... “

  He leans forward, staring me in the eye. “Masturbate, fuck yourself, get yourself off. I don’t care what you want to call it. I want to see you doing it. You can start by opening yourself up. Show me your cunt.”

  Quivering as I do so, I peel apart my pussy lips, displaying my glistening core. Brin leans back, hands up behind his head, watches intently, holding my gaze.

  “Play with yourself. Play with your clit and your pussy.”

  My clit doesn’t need a lot of attention. Already hot and swollen, it throbs at his words. A little self-consciously, I start to finger myself. My engorged bud pulses as my finger slip by, then again as I glide circles around it, easing it from side to side, sending frissons of pleasure rippling through my belly and thighs.

  My breath is becoming ragged and my blood beginning to pound. Brin smiles at me, eyes soft. “Come on Girl. That’s the way.” Leaning forward, as I work my bud, he slips two fingers inside my pussy, circling my inner muscles, stretching me. Pulling out again for a moment, he sucks his fingers clean.... “Sweet as honey.” ...then slides them back in, this time angling them to rub up against my front inner wall.

  I almost explode. I have heard of the g-spot, but never really knew it existed. Certainly, no-one else, Tom, ever seemed to know that I had one.

  I yelp and arch my back, my hips frantically bucking as Brin massages my inner muscles. Having trouble controlling myself, my hands trying to keep up the attention on my bud, I writhe and twist, hearing to my own pounding heartbeat pulsing through me.

  Now Brin starts to pump me. his two fingers become three, then four. First easing gently in, he pumps harder and harder, stretching me, opening me up, plunging in deeper.

  My orgasm wells up again, blooming outwards in waves from my core, rippling out over thighs and belly like heat and tension together.

  My head flung back, eyes tight shut, Brin continues to pump as my climax takes me. Lost to the world, I scream a triumphant scream, a declaration to the world that I am alive.

  ____________________

  “You need a shower. So do I. Come on. You can wash my back.”

  To my mild surprise, Brin treats the shower strictly as an exercise to get clean, scrubbing my back with an almost mechanical efficiency. Afterwards I don a robe, finding an old one of Tom’s for Brin. We sit by the fire, drinking coffee.

  “So what happens next?” I ask.

  “What do you want to happen next?”

  “I don’t know. I just know that I want more of... of... this.”

  “I told you my terms.”

  “I do everything you tell me, even if I think that I don’t want to do it. I become your slave.”

  “That’s it. You become my slave.”

  “How long for?”

  He shrugs. “Til I get bored with it. Or you do. Or until I think you’re not getting anything out of it anymore.”

  I sip my coffee. “Will you stay the night?”

  His eyes slide sideways to me. “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  He leans back, stretching and yawning. “Good. Then I will.”

  The Story Continues in ‘Enthralled’

  Enthralled

  A Tale of Alpha Male, Master and Slave,

  Ménage, MMFM, and Erotic Romance

  Part Two of the

  ‘Submissive to Her Master’ Series

  Author: Simone Leigh

  Part Two

  Enthralled

  The following morning, I wake late. The bed beside me is unoccupied and cold. Very hung over, I feel utterly ashamed of myself. What was I thinking? All that drink, not even wine, but whiskey, and behaving like a complete trollop with a stranger.

  Slouching through to the bathroom, I take a couple of paracetamol, reflecting on the previous evening’s events.

  Still, the ‘upside’ is that I am still alive. Is that an upside? I wonder about that. Have I proved to myself that I don’t actually want to jump off that bridge?

  Miserably, I take a shower. Nothing has changed except that I have proved to myself that I have the morals of an alley cat.

  As I towel myself off, it dawns on me that there is a clattering coming from downstairs, and the smell of cooking drifting past; a very appetizing smell of cooking. Then my stomach rebels and I feel suddenly queasy.

  A bathrobe wrapped around me like armour, but now more hopeful, I go down to the kitchen to find Brin with pancakes, bacon and eggs cooking away. It looks good but my stomach says otherwise, churning at the sight of all the food.

  “Hope you don’t mind me making myself at home.” he grins. “I thought a decent breakfast would be a good start to the day.” He looks at me, staring me in the face. “Hangover? Hardly surprising really. You’re not used to that amount of alcohol. Here, I’ll mix you up my patent remedy. It never fails.”

  Lost for words, I sit at the table while Brin concocts a cocktail of eggs, tabasco and who-knows-what-else. Wordlessly, I knock it back. Astonishingly, within minutes, I do feel better.

  Brin serves me with a mountain of food. It never occurred to me that he would be able to cook. Tom always expected that the food was put in front of him and would get angry if his meal was not on the table as soon he arrived home from work. I thought that women cooked and men ate. That was just how things were done.

  Alternating speech, with spooning mouthfuls of pancake, bacon and syrup into his mouth, Brin says “I’ve got to go out today. Probably won’t see you until later in the week, but I’ll catch up with you in a few days.”

  Disappointed, I stare down at my food, shoving it around the plate with my fork. Brin notices it, grabs the fork from me, shovels up a mound of bacon and egg and thrusts it at me. “I didn’t say that I won’t be back, but I’ve got things to do. Now eat.”

  I force the food down, feeling sick with disappointment. After the glorious ride this stranger took me on the night before, the wonderful sex, my first orgasm, I had hoped we would be spending the day together.

  He glances up at the wall clock. “Gotta go. I’ll catch up with you.” And just like that, he leaves.

  Taking myself in hand and determined now not to fall into depression again, I decide to take a walk. Wandering down the leafy avenue, I try to think of something nice to do to cheer myself up. Brin promised he would be back in a few days and I cannot make myself dependent on him. He’s clearly not the type to tolerate that. Definitely a free spirit.

  I settle on buying myself a picnic and taking it down to the park. The weather is lovely and I can feed the ducks. Calling by a supermarket, I

  buy myself some sandwiches, cakes and other treats. I push the boat out and choose a bottle of wine. At the last moment I remember to buy a corkscrew and a plastic wineglass as well.

  Bag loaded, I set off for the park, taking a short cut through an old factory yard. Perhaps this was not a good idea. Broken glass and beer cans, graffitied walls and litter, all contribute to an air of desolation. A couple of men hanging around the gate make me nervous and I step smartly, wanting to get past the area as quickly as possible.

  It dawns on me that the two men are walking a couple of hundred yards behind me and have been behind there for a while. Glancing over my shoulder I see them, apparently nothing to do with me but maintaining a steady distance. A little un-nerved I step up my pace, keen to reach a more public area.

  As I walk a little faster, I hear the men behind me also moving more quickly. Glancing back again, yes, they are definitely following me.

  Thoroughly alarmed now, I start to run. So do the men. It is only five minutes to the park area and there will be hundreds of people milling around there. I will be safe then.

  It’s no good. I can’t outpace them. Dropping my picnic bag, I simply run as fast as I can, trying to escape my pursuers. Heart pounding, and really scared, I race to reach the gate of the parking lot.

  Closer I hear them, and closer still, until, with a scream, I am pulled to a halt by a hand grabbing my wrist, and another clapped over my mouth. A car pulls up, squealing to a halt beside us and I am bundled into the back seat. As the car pulls away again, strong arms hold me down, some sort of cloth is shoved into my mouth and tied in, gagging me. Another strip of cloth binds over my eyes, blinding me.

  Screaming through the gag, I struggle against hands pinning me down. A voice hisses in my ear “Shut it, or you’ll really regret it.”

  Shaking in terror, I fall silent. What do they want? If it were just my purse, my money, my credit cards, they could have taken them already. There are only so many reasons that men kidnap women and the thought of any of them is terrifying.

  The car pulls to a stop. I hear the screech of hinges and machinery. Electric gates? A garage door?

  The car moves again, for seconds only and with another mechanical squeal, silence falls.

  Hands lift me out of the car. I struggle again, but this time feel the click of cuffs around my wrists. I am picked up, lifted under the arms and around the knees. I can’t contain myself and start screaming again through the gag.

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