Master Stephen (3 page)

His cock swelled beneath my cheek.

I smiled at that.

He turned his hand into a fist, gripped my hair. “You like this, then?”

“I love it, Sir. And do you know what I love the most? If I was sucking your cock and you pulled my hair so it drew my head back, and I had to fight against it to be able to keep your dick in my mouth. That’s what I’d love. Showing you how greedy I was for your cock, that even though you were tugging me away from it, I was prepared to suffer pain just so I could keep it in my mouth.”

His cock twitched.

My cunt got wet.

“What else do you love?” he asked.

“Lots of things. Like earlier, when you were touching and sucking that woman’s nipples—not the woman on the cross, but the one in the orange dress, her against the wall. I’d like you to do that to me, Sir, at the same time as licking my cunt, you know…maybe with a clit clamp on it like she had. Wouldn’t it be great to act out what they did? For you to know you didn’t have to borrow some other man’s woman—that you had your own?”

He relaxed his hand in my hair.

“Sir?”

“Yes,” he said. “It would be good.” He sighed. “And so would doing what you said.”

“Which bit?”

“Sucking my cock. Twisting my sac. Finger up my arse. Me slapping you. Fuck…”

“It looks good in your head, doesn’t it, Sir?”

“It does.”

“So shall we go then?” I asked, knowing I was being pushy, yet I had no other choice if I wanted him. “Upstairs. Closed door?”

“Get up,” he said.

I rose, hoping it was so he could stand then lead the way up that wide staircase. I looked at him, thinking he’d be staring elsewhere, but he wasn’t. At last, he stared directly at me, and I got a good view of his dark brown eyes. They shone brightly, and their shape, their wideness, told me he didn’t have a shred of doubt going through him at that moment. I assumed he felt brave, daring, the man he thought he should be.

“No,” he said.

I tried to hide my disappointment but my shoulders slumped before I could stop them.

“Not upstairs with a closed door,” he said.

I widened my eyes.

“Go into voyeur room one and wait for me there.” He stroked my cheek with the back of one finger. “I have something I need to get before we can go further.”

I didn’t question. I turned from him, left the bar then entered room one, partly elated, partly ill at ease. What if he didn’t come in? What if he bottled out and left me there?

I stood beside the door with my back to the wall and stared around. The usual suspects were here tonight, all indulging in play or watching others at it. For once I would possibly be like them—here with a partner, someone I could call mine, even if only for an hour or two.

Unusual, but the crosses were empty.

I wanted to be bound to one, but if I went over there now, Masters would know I was a sub who was free to them—after all, they knew I had no Master of my own—and one might step up to use me before Master Stephen came back.

If he ever did.

My stomach churned at the thought that he wouldn’t.

Please don’t abandon me here. Come back for me, Sir. Make me yours.

Chapter Three

I must have stood there for at least five minutes, although it felt much longer. Of course, I’d entertained the idea that he’d gone, never to return, but something inside told me that wasn’t the case.

He entered the room holding rope and cast his gaze about, looking for me. I’d chosen to stand in the far corner so I wasn’t immediately visible—if he hadn’t come back for me I’d wanted to be able to lick my wounds in the shadows before walking out with dignity.

He caught sight of me and a smile lifted the shroud of darkness from his features. I smiled at that. Perhaps he’d thought
I
wouldn’t be here waiting, that
I
had gone, never to return. How mad the pair of us were, how…insecure. I’d probably come across to him as full of confidence, but even the most sure person had moments of doubt.

Master Stephen winked at me then walked toward one of the crosses. My stomach contracted at the intimacy, the touch of secrecy his gesture had made me feel. Once he was at a cross, he stood before it, his back to me, and remained there as if studying it, thinking on what to do next. Maybe he was even imagining me strapped to it. I had a feeling he was bracing himself for what he wanted to do, perhaps wondering what everyone else might be thinking. Things had changed, so people were bound to be silently asking questions. He always used someone else’s woman. I always just stood and watched. The two of us together might well be a shock.

He held the rope up. It wasn’t one long piece as I’d thought but five separate lengths. He glanced over his shoulder, widening his eyes, raising his eyebrows, and I took it to mean that I should go and join him. I walked across the room, keeping eye contact with him, to show him that he was the one in control, more than anything else. I was aware of several people looking my way, frowns in place.

“What’s she doing with him?” someone whispered. “He’s such a superior Dom, but she hasn’t given us any idea of whether she can handle a man like that…”

If Master Stephen knew people saw him that way he could build on it, make himself feel more confident in front of all these people. They were eager—I saw them in my peripheral—to know what on earth was going on. A Master who usually sampled others and now appeared to have a sub of his own—what was the world coming to?

They’d find out soon enough.

To be the focus of their attention instead of
me
always being the one to watch
them
felt good. I reached him then bowed my head. It would be better this way, for him to be seen as in full command, me giving full compliance. I hoped this scene would give him the boost he needed to build on his shyness issues, to continue holding up the illusion that he wasn’t timid at all.

“Stand against the cross, sub,” he said, his tone hard.

The sound of his order had me in knots—in a good way. I stepped up onto the small stage then positioned myself in front of it, looking at the floor, Master Stephen before me. I’d assumed he’d meant that I must face him.

“Move back,” he said. “And take off your clothes.”

I hid my shock. I wasn’t one to undress fully in front of voyeurs, and I took a second or two to ask myself whether I could do this. It wasn’t because I didn’t like my body, more that I preferred to keep some parts of me concealed—in my opinion, in this kind of situation, less wasn’t more. The whole of me, naked, was something that normally belonged only to my Master. Then again, I supposed having every bit of my flesh on show wasn’t much different to just patches of it—cunt, tits, they were what most people would deem their very secret parts, but were regularly flaunted by me. Yet there was a lump of irrational fear in my belly as I contemplated what he’d asked me to do.

Maybe it meant more psychologically than it should.

Fear. I didn’t need it. Didn’t want it hindering me.

I undid the ties that held my corset together at the front. The relief was instant. I’d done it up quite tight before I’d left home so that my breasts had been plump, spilling out of the cups. I took the garment off and dropped it to the floor. My knickers followed, and I toed off my stilettos. The stage was cold on my feet and goosebumps scattered over my skin.

Although I hadn’t been wearing much, it had still given me some semblance of privacy. Now, naked and completely exposed, I waited for another instruction as the cool air snaked around me, perking my nipples and chilling my wet cunt.

It wasn’t lost on me that I’d so readily undressed for Master Stephen. If he had to learn to combat fears then I could bloody well join him.

“Spread your legs,” he said.

I did so, keeping my head down. Several pairs of feet had appeared at the front of the stage. People had drifted over to watch, then. And I supposed they would, given that a scene involving a Master who’d never had a sub of his own, and a sub who’d never had a Master, was in the offing. I would want to watch us too, just to see what happened.

He knelt, placing four pieces of rope on the floor. As he tied one of my ankles to the cross, he glanced up at me. I nodded slightly to let him know that he was doing fine and I was willing and happy for him to bind me. He tied the other ankle, the rope chafing my skin in such a delicious way that I had a shiver go through me. He rose, moving to stand inches from me.

Leaning forward, he put his cheek to mine. “Do you want me to tie your wrists so that you’re lifted up the cross, or would you prefer to have your feet firmly on the floor?”

“On the floor please, Sir. Thank you.”

“Safe word,” he whispered.

I breathed in the scent of him, some spicy cologne that reminded me of Christmas parties, a mixture of several different aromas at once. He hadn’t smelled like this in the bar, and I wondered if he’d gone to his car to collect the rope and had dabbed the scent on. I smiled—he was so adorable.

“Fennel,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to use it.

He paused, reared back a bit and looked at me. Frowned. “Fennel?”

“It just came to mind, Sir.”

“I see.”

He took one of my wrists and held it up, reaching around the arm of the cross to loop the rope there. He didn’t tie it too tightly, just enough that I would feel a slight burn if I moved too much. Once my other wrist was secure, he stepped back to appraise me.

“She looks beautiful there, doesn’t she?” he asked, glancing around at everyone watching. “And she’s
mine
.”

My cunt grew wetter at that.

I lifted my gaze a bit so I could take the audience in, see them ogling me. I wondered what they were thinking.
Did
they see me as beautiful or just an average woman? Did it even matter what
they thought? No, it didn’t. All I cared about was what Master Stephen thought, how he was feeling. And he looked pleased, with the situation and himself. I experienced a burst of pride that I had helped him do this, made him see that being crippled by inner shyness wasn’t something he had to endure. Oh, I was under no illusion—people wouldn’t have seen him as shy, not with the way he’d always gone about, joining in others’ scenes and enjoying himself week after week—but he would have felt as such.

I fancied he’d been in a world of his own, giving off the false impression that he was someone he’d always wanted to be—strong, confident, a Master. It was amazing how we could make people perceive us differently. How we became actors, playing roles because that was the only way to get through the next hour, the next day, the next week. Suddenly I never wanted to play a fake role again—in anything. I wanted to be myself, to enjoy being me, and I hoped that Master Stephen would want to pair up with me again in the future so I could watch him unfurl and become the person he really was.

We could be very good for one another.

He picked up the last piece of rope. Cocked his head. Requested my permission silently. I gave it by staring directly at him then shifting my gaze to the rope, licking my lips. I’d never been flogged with rope before—and I was game to try anything once. I imagined it would sting, hurt in a dull, achy way, what with it being the heavy kind, the type used on boats.

“Who would like to strike her thigh with this?” he asked, turning to face the crowd. He held the rope up.

Shocked, I widened my eyes. I’d thought
he
was going to use it on me, not offer for some stranger to join us. How did I feel about that?

I like the idea…

A man stepped onto the stage, his sub remaining where he’d left her at the back of the crowd. She was petite and blonde, could barely see above other people’s heads, and I felt a bit sorry for her.

I flicked my gaze from her to Master Stephen. He turned to look at the sub, then at me. I tried to get across what I wanted—her being back there alone wasn’t sitting well with me.

“Master Clive, your sub,” Master Stephen said to the other Master, “is welcome, should you wish it.”

He didn’t appear to wish it, but he did blink then stared at me as if checking whether it was Master Stephen’s idea and something I would be happy with. I smiled then lowered my lashes—it was all I could do to plead her case. With both men standing in front of me, both wanting to share me, a flush of heat rushed up my body. To be so bare, the sole focus of their attention…

God.

“Don’t hit her too hard,” Master Stephen said, “because I’ll be down there licking her cunt. I don’t want to get hit.”

I gasped, understanding why he’d asked another to join in. He wanted to give me what we’d talked about earlier—give me what the woman in the orange dress had experienced, only a step up from that. More.

“You must wait until I begin before you do,” Master Stephen said.

Master Clive nodded and took the rope, dangling it from one hand. He turned to look at the crowd, nodding absently. His sub came to the front, and he looked at Master Stephen, who nodded his pleasure. The sub crawled onto the stage then sat on her haunches at her Master’s feet, to his right.

I couldn’t deny it—I was turned the fuck on with having three people in front of me now, my own little audience as well as the larger one behind. That Master Stephen had brought it about… This was what he was capable of.
This
…and I wanted him to see that he was good at it.

Master Stephen knelt, digging into his jacket pocket and producing a clamp. Oh, my God, he was going to—

“You’re so wet,” he said, swiping one finger through my folds. He turned to look across at the kneeling sub. “Are
you
wet?”

She nodded then leaned her head against Master Clive’s leg.

I jolted—his touch was electrifying. He squeezed the butterfly wings of the clip then placed it in position over my clit, hovering it there and looking up at me. I held my breath, anticipating the wicked burn once he released it. He did so, quickly standing to pinch my nipples hard between his fingers and thumbs. I was grateful for the diversion of pain and concentrated on breathing, just breathing.