MASTERED: (The Novel) (4 page)

She felt much more composed then, as she sat
ruminating on the side of a dark, unfamiliar street. Inexplicably, she was
infused with the same sensation of tranquility that calmed her earlier in
James's presence. The same feeling enveloped her just as her lips parted to
flagrantly taste of his fingers. She remembered how they caressed the deepest
recesses of her mouth.
And
her mind.

Recollecting these powerful sensations, any
remaining doubt evaporated. She was left with only one other eye-opening
realization. The fresh panties that she so recently slipped on were nothing
short of drenched. Prying one hand from the steering wheel, she reached between
her legs. She was appalled to find the lips of her swollen pussy pressing
wantonly against the thin, straining fabric!

Not to mention that her distended nipples were
chafing maddeningly against the material of her brassiere. Missy could not deny
the evidence one second longer. Her body was flagrantly telling her what her
mind had refused to contemplate for the majority of her life.

Submissive…

Deciding it was high time to pay attention;
Missy resolutely shifted the car into drive and pointed it in the direction of
James's house.

Now she sat frozen, staring blindly at the
imposing fortress; fortitude wilting. Gulping air in a final effort to muster
her nerve, she exited the safety of her vehicle to ascend the rounded steps to
her destiny.

She barely managed to uncurl her fingers from
the knocker before the wooden door flew open. His hand was a blur as it shot
out, securing itself firmly around her throat...

Chapter 9

“You're late, my dear.” The slow, sardonic drawl
was completely incongruous with his actions. Even if his hand were not exerting
a steady pressure at her throat, Missy would have been rendered speechless at
the sight of him.

The interior lights shone softly behind him,
infusing him with an almost dreamlike aura. He filled the doorway, accentuating
the considerable difference in their sizes.
Why didn't I notice how muscular
he is?
Even casually dressed in jeans and un-tucked tee, he would have
turned heads anywhere.

Missy, however, was in no position for
head-turning. His hand was scalding against the flesh of her throat. As if in
response, her pulse throbbed against the flesh of his hand.

Without another word she was impelled forward,
out of the darkness and into the light. It was as though he was pulling her
free of her self-imposed prison. As James bolted the massive door behind them,
a curious mantra played over and over in Missy's mind.

I'm home
…

She was disallowed further opportunity to
explore this unnerving concept. There were far more pressing circumstances to
consider.

With his hand still firmly at her throat, James
insinuated one thigh between the two of hers. In one effortless motion, he
pressed her back against the now-sealed doorway. Removing his thigh from
betwixt hers, their physical contact was again limited to a single powerful
hand encircling her tiny, erratically pulsating throat.

At arm’s length, James assessed her silently, unhurriedly,
and thoroughly.

If she was incapable of absorbing much in the
way of detail, James inundated his senses with her
; such an
extraordinarily
intoxicating rose.
Delighted, he noted that she held her eyes cast
downwards as if instinctual. Not only was she beautiful and bright, she was
even more submissive than he originally thought.
If that was
possible.

Missy began to fidget under the close scrutiny,
forcing his hand to tighten its grip ever-so-slightly. It took but a moment for
comprehension to dawn. The squirming came to an immediate halt, allowing him to
continue his close inspection. He observed the flush of her cheek and the heave
of her chest. He noticed her nipples, hard and straining visibly through both
bra and shirt.

He knew with absolute certainty that she was
wet.

James reached out slowly with his free hand,
capturing one thick nipple between his fingers and squeezed just until she
whimpered. He did not let go nor did he loosen his grip. She remained
motionless, moaning intermittently. He was sure she was remembering his
wordless admonition of just a few moments ago.

Smiling enigmatically down at her, he spoke,
“You disrespect me with your tardiness, little one.
 
It would never occur to me to disrespect you
in such a manner. You will learn this evening that disobedience cannot and will
not be tolerated.”

With those words, he literally felt her breath
catch in her throat. He could almost see her mind as it began to cartwheel
wildly. He was quite sure that, this time, it had little to do with the
pressure at her throat. He stood above her with one hand encircling that lovely
throat, the other firmly affixed to her now pounding nipple.

And yet, he was scolding
her
for being disrespectful
!

James was certain that in any other time and
with any other man, she would not hesitate to confidently and indignantly shut
him down. Security would have been called long before this pleasant juncture,
without doubt. He could almost hear her laughing disdainfully at such
unmitigated arrogance as she marched out the door, slamming it behind her with
a flourish.

Instead of that drama, here she stood;
motionless before him. Accepting his truths
as her own
.
He could feel her pulse slow against the palm of his hand. Her breathing
steadied as she gradually arrived at the same realization. He released his grip
from her throat and observed closely.

Imperceptibly, her head tilted back.
Unwittingly, she was exposing the tender flesh of her just-released throat for
his viewing pleasure. A soft moan escaped her lips.

Whether her conscious mind was fully aware of it
or not, her body was blatantly offering itself to him. While he smiled
indiscernibly at this most telling of displays, he wasn't in the least
surprised.

Submissive...

James was well-versed in the trials and
tribulations of the submissive woman. When she unexpectedly finds herself
exactly where she was meant to be, the relief and release can be so intense as
to be almost unbearable.

He empathized with her years of self-imposed
isolation and denial. He felt her anxiety as she slowly arrived at the
realization that she was different from the other girls.
Fundamentally
different.

 
It pained
him to imagine her shame at this wretchedly unfair life sentence. How
terrifying it must be to inhabit a world that doesn't understand and refuses to
accept.

'Different' has never been well-tolerated
societally. Once upon a time they used to burn women who were considered
different at the stake. Or stone them in the streets.

Chapter 10

When James abruptly removed his hand from her
throat, Missy's reaction was quite different from what she would have expected
of herself only yesterday. Instead of outrage and indignation, she was
mortified to find herself moaning in anguish at the sudden loss of contact.

Intuitively, she arched her throat towards him
in silent surrender. Her nostrils flared, inhaling deeply as she searched for
his already recognizable scent. James emanated an irresistible combination of
fine cognac, faint cologne, and powerful male pheromones. Missy would swear to
its distinct familiarity.

Master…

Her inflamed nipple remained firmly ensconced
between his persistent fingers. The all-consuming combination of pain and
pleasure shot through her body in two opposite directions. Both left her
equally faint with need and laser focused on him.

One unrelenting current ran from her tender
nipple directly to her brain, the voltage sufficient to infuse her with the
most exquisite aura of submissiveness. The other ran unswervingly to her
already engorged pussy, the voltage diminished not a single iota.
Two opposing pathways with precisely the same results.

Upon hearing his hushed directive to open her
mouth, intense memories of that afternoon penetrated her dazed mind. Immediately
and without any trepidation, Missy moved to do his bidding.

How could it be that she; a self-possessed and
dignified woman, found herself in such mind-boggling circumstances? Worse, how
was it possible that the same self-possessed and dignified woman was looking
forward to this man’s next shamefully exhilarating directive? Looking forward
to it with what could only be described as breathless anticipation.

Not to mention blatant, throbbing excitement!
Missy wondered how much longer it would be until her
legs simply gave out from under her.
When,
not if!

That would be her last discernible rational
thought. All sensical supposition was methodically and systematically disabled.
The fingers which were clamped around her pounding nipple relinquished their strangle-hold
to some small degree. They now alternated between gentle tweaks and brusque
twists.

Missy could actually envision the pulsating
bolts of white light that were being masterfully transmitted to the core of her
being. She was convinced that James could see them just as clearly.

The fingers of his free hand were at her parted
lips, opening them further still. James reached within the cavern of her hot,
wet mouth and, without hesitation, secured a firm hold on her tongue. She felt
herself recoil in shock, the movement causing her sharp discomfort. Even so, he
would not relinquish his grip! In fact, the more she attempted to pull away,
the tighter it became.

Missy's eyes began to tear. Once again, he
wordlessly conveyed his wishes, and once again, Missy capitulated. Motionless
and compliant now, she listened to the peculiar ringing in her ears as he
slowly but surely drew her tongue from the safe confines of her mouth. He
stretched it until it could go no further.

She would wonder later if he was actually
humming, or whether it was her inflamed imagination. It was at this awkward
juncture that James 'allowed' her to look directly into his eyes. She felt her
whole body suffuse with scalding hot shame as her eyes slowly rose to meet his.

She was utterly helpless to prevent the saliva
that was dripping onto his fingers from her hyper-extended tongue. If possible,
his eyes were even more riveting than the first time she found herself held
captive within them. The loving acceptance that emanated from them suffused
her. Missy’s heart melted.

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward
and crudely spat upon her distended tongue, co-mingling his saliva with hers.
Considering that she was long past disbelief and well into the liberating glow
of acquiescence, she barely flinched.

The kiss that followed was so unexpectedly sweet
as to bring another kind of tears to her eyes; tears of joy. James kissed her
like she’d never been kissed before, touching not only her lips, but her soul.
Entangling not only their tongues, but their destinies.

He kissed her until she was panting into his
mouth, unwittingly attempting to grind her inflamed pussy against his leg.
James easily held her at bay simply by applying or relieving pressure to her
nipple. All she knew for sure at that exquisite moment was that she wanted
more. No, she
needed
more.

For the third time in a single twenty-four-hour
period, she was floating in the warmest, rarest aura of absolute peace. She was
soon to learn that this all-encompassing glow of well-being was called
‘sub-space’.

Sub-space was a state-of-being that Missy would
come to beg for.
Literally.
She felt it the moment
James shut the door on the outside world and introduced her to true self. It
was uncomplicated.

Master...

Missy wasn't the only participant transformed by
the events of the evening. Not even James, an experienced, worldly Dominant,
could have predicted the outcome. The simple act of bending to kiss this
bewitching creature's opened mouth elicited a response within him which was
nothing short of staggering.

Tasting deeply of her unleashed longing and
unrestrained submission triggered an unexpectedly fierce desire within James to
protect this woman. He would keep her safe from the judgment of a sexually
repressed culture that would frown upon such an exceptional creature.

Missy was a rare but highly sought after
treasure whose nature is to serve and whose pleasure lies in structure and
approval. All that had been missing was a man she could trust; a Master she
could worship.

A Master who adores and
appreciates her in return.

Was it just that afternoon that he was drawn to
her on an instinctual level so profound; the impact prompted him to pursue her
to her car? His mission was to confront her with her own submissive nature. He
neglected to factor in the basic principle that for every action, there is an
equal and opposite reaction.

What he failed to predict was that she would
pour every particle of her 'self' into every nuance of his consciousness.

His spittle was shared between them like the
sweetest of nectar, binding them incontrovertibly together. A twinge of guilt
gripped him momentarily as his tongue impatiently reached for, and ravished
Missy's. Willfully, he endeavored to summon Angeline's beautiful face to his mind's
eye. He was unsuccessful.

After three long years of mourning, has his
lingering self-reproach been eradicated?
After
three long years, was he finally free to love another?

Breaking off the kiss, James released her nipple
and took a few moments to re-gain control of his emotions. Not to mention his
raging erection. If he felt any turmoil within, his calm exterior belied its
existence. He observed placidly as she fell back against the door, mouth agape;
this time of its own accord. Her breathing was shallow and audible. Her need
was palpable to every one of his five senses.

Both nipples were clearly delineated through the
thin top. The left one, however, was pleasantly engorged due to the extra
'attention' it was paid. He could virtually see it pulsating in time to her
heartbeat as blood rushed exquisitely, and no doubt painfully, to the deprived
tip.

James felt his need to dominate this waif of a
girl intensify at the same pace as his feelings towards her deepened. He
anticipated with delight the journey that lay ahead.

The profound and absolute trust shared between a
Master and his submissive is difficult, if not impossible to define. It can
defy words and challenge time. It can transcend the physical body. While it was
of his nature to discover, explore, and ultimately push 'limits', he was also
acutely aware that trust and timing were paramount.

Baby steps, James, baby steps...

Absently, he reached out to stroke Missy's
now-disheveled hair and damp cheek. Smiling inscrutably as she gazed adoringly
up at him, he finally spoke. “You've comported yourself well, little one. But,
I can't have you thinking that good behavior somehow cancels out the bad, can
I
?”

He very much enjoyed watching her eyes grow to
the size of saucers. Still, she uttered not a word.

He repeated,
“Now,
can
I
?”
He was delighted when she whispered the
words; “I guess not,” softly under her breath. Those three little words spoke
volumes to James.

Allowing her lack of formality to slide for the
moment, he continued nonchalantly, “I think you very much deserve a good
spanking for your lack of punctuality, wouldn't you agree?” When no answer was
forthcoming yet again, he repeated the words slowly and patiently, as if
speaking to a beloved child that doesn't catch on quickly. “Well, my pretty?
Would you or would you not agree?”

Again James was pleased when she squeaked out an
almost inaudible 'I agree, I guess'. This time, however, he wanted more. “You
shall call me Sir from now on, as is your place, whore! Perhaps one day you
shall earn the right to call me Master. We shall see about that, won't we?”

When Missy nodded dumbly in response, the
displeasure on his face must have been enough to spur her into finding her
voice. “Yes, Sir!” she croaked hoarsely, her desire to please him clearly overriding
her shock at his words.

“There's my good girl!” There was no mistaking
the joy that flashed in her eyes in response to the verbal reward.

What came next, however, turned that joy into
alarmed apprehension, instantly. “I'm thinking that because you were thirteen
minutes late, you deserve thirteen strokes on each lovely buttock. That is,
unless you feel that you require more in order to understand the importance of
punctuality?”

This time, there was no mistaking the stunned
intake of breath. His ominous words appeared to have the same impact as a short
jab to the solar plexus. Disbelief was plain on her flushed face. James could
read her jumbled thoughts simply by observing the emotions playing out on her
beautifully distorted features.

In the end, all she said was; “No Sir. Thirteen
strokes will be fine, thank you, Sir.”

His cock hardened to still greater dimensions as
she not only condoned her own punishment, but thanked him for it as well!
Pre-cum oozed thickly from the swollen head.

James smiled…

“No sir.
Thirteen strokes will be fine, thank you, Sir.”
Missy felt her own clumsy lips form every syllable.
She heard every unfathomable word as it was spoken. Still, she was having
difficulty accepting that it was she who was speaking.

What happened to the distrustful recluse who
found it necessary to safeguard herself from the world? How had it come to be
that she was speaking with humble deference to a complete stranger? A stranger,
who pinned her to a door by the throat, bruised her tender nipple - and kissed
her like she'd not been kissed in her life!

A stranger who politely inquired as to how many
strokes she felt she deserved as punishment for disrespecting him.

How could she rationalize to herself, or anyone
else, the warm glow of belonging that enveloped her when he even glanced in her
direction? How could she explain the unprecedented absence of inner-conflict
and anxiety?

This man was the furthest thing from a stranger,
even if they’d only just met. Missy had imitated the salmon for her entire
life. She swam upstream, against the natural current. Instinctively, she sought
a suitable mate that she almost hoped didn’t exist.

Willing to go without or die trying, she went
without; fully expecting to die trying. That is, until today.

James spoke, his voice mandating her complete
attention. The deep resonance soothed her senses, immediately re-focusing her
entire awareness to where it seemed most content.
On him!

Curling a lock of her hair around his finger, he
instructed her to find her way to the kitchen. She was to return with an
appropriate instrument with which he might inflict her punishment. He must have
noticed her facial features as they transformed from slack acquiescence to
appalled disbelief. Missy was mortified at the thought of aiding and abetting
in her own chastisement!

James continued; his tone ominous, “Do
not
disappoint me, my dear. Rest
assured, should you return with a feather duster, it shall only afford me
another reason to escalate your punishment. Not that the prospect is in any way
distasteful!
Quite to the contrary.”

He took her gently by both arms and turned her
in the direction of the kitchen. Before releasing her, he cinched her drooping
shoulders firmly back, impressing upon her the proper carriage expected from
his submissive. Shoulders back, breasts pressed exaggeratedly forward.

Apparently satisfied, he patted her bottom
familiarly, impelling her onward. She felt his eyes follow her as she took the
first tentative steps towards his kitchen – and her fate. As she teetered
unsteadily along the unfamiliar hallway, there was no denying the shocking
truth that was coursing through her flustered mind and body. There was no
denying it.

She could hardly wait...