Finding Master Right

“You have, quite possibly, the loveliest legs I’ve ever seen.” A fingertip brushed the back of her thigh and she quivered. “Kate? I complimented one of your many assets. What do you say?”

Ugh. No one said this was going to be a Miss Ma

Ba

She gasped. “Ow!”

The burn spread across her skin as she tensed against a second blow that didn’t come. Wasn’t there some sort of rule saying he had to spread those smacks around? It felt as though he’d swatted her in the same spot as last time. She didn’t like the pain, really, but the sting was a reminder that someone had taken charge of her and he wasn’t messing around.

She opened her mouth to complain, but when she turned her head, she saw the reproach in his eyes and let her mouth shut again. She’d save the colorful expletives for when she was clothed and standing with her back against a wall. On a different continent.

“Good girl. Remember that back talk will get you punished. Every time. Okay?” The stern expression he wore sent a heavier ache to her clit. Where was the incentive to be good if being bad made him look at her like that?

“Yes, Sir.” The urge to be naughty, just to see what would happen, was strong. Her girly bits were hot and felt slick when she shifted.

“Now, what you should have said when I complimented your legs was, ‘Thank you, Sir.’ That’s all.”

“Thank you for saying I have nice legs, Sir.”

“Better.” His fingertips brushed slowly upward on her thigh.

Her body tensed. Part of her wanted to run away, or use her safeword, but a bigger part wanted to prove to Ba

He went quiet. The movie babbled on in the background, and she felt the pads of his fingers awaken every inch of flesh they skimmed over. Was he testing her to see if she’d panic? She tried to ignore him, but ignoring something that felt so damn good was impossible. Softness trailed after his fingers, warm breath. Lips where fingers had been. She wanted to urge him on, but that wasn’t how this worked. Things would happen when he chose for them to happen. She let it go. Accepted.

Or tried to. When he reached her pussy, her muscles locked. She swallowed hard. As she did, the collar moved, reminding her that this was his game, and she was only a toy. The whimper that stuttered in her throat made him chuckle quietly.

“You can be a very good girl when you want something, can’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, Sir.”

“On your questio

This consent thing was damn embarrassing. “Yes, Sir.”

“Fuck.” He shifted in his seat. “Whose good girl are you?”

Her heart was thundering so loudly it almost drowned out his words. Whose? But this was supposed to be temporary. She let her mind follow his voice down that dark path. To a place where she offered up everything inside her, and he took it without hesitation, as his right. A small feminist voice in her head told her she was weak and sick. She told that voice to go fuck itself. For now she would do this.

“Yours,” she breathed.

A blow landed on the back of her thigh, just below her ass cheek, and she moaned, more from pleasure than pain.

“You may not have to call me ‘Master,’ girl, but you’ll damn well give me ‘Sir.’”

Sir. They’d agreed on just using his name, but now she had to agree Sir was more fitting.

His fingers slid through her telltale wetness, and he sighed appreciatively. “So ready.” Over and around his fingers slid, teasing, making her burn hotter. He tortured her clit, tapping, rubbing, pinching.

Kate pushed her face against the ottoman and tried not to move, but her body started to follow his fingers whenever he drew away for a moment.

Ba

“I-I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t remember what you asked.”

He squeezed harder and she squealed.

“I asked you once, Kate, you’ll regret it if I have to ask you again. Whose good girl are you?” The dark seduction of his voice and the threat between her legs, his teasing, and all of the build up to today . . .

A loud keening sound escaped her as she struggled to form words. She tried to fight her way back from the edge, but she could feel her body teetering, ready to come, impatient and hopeful.

“I’m yours, Master!”

Ba

“Bad!” He growled in her ear and slapped her pussy, setting her off a second time. She curled up in a ball, her body clutching at nothing, frustrated at being denied the hard cock she knew was just inches away.

There was a metallic click, and something tugged at her collar. She looked up and there stood Ba

“Come with me.”

She trailed after him, stumbling to keep up, the friction of her legs against her naked sex making her come again as they walked. If he noticed, he didn’t care, and she struggled to keep her balance as her body reveled in what he’d done.

But why was he so mad?

Oh shit. She’d read something about this.

“Please, Sir, I didn’t mean to come.” Tears welled in her eyes and one spilled over. Things had been going so well, but she’d ruined it. How was she supposed to stop herself from coming, though? Sometimes it was easy enough, but he didn’t know what it had been like for her. She hadn’t had sex in almost a year, and masturbating couldn’t hold a candle to this.

Orgasm aftershocks pulsed through her as he dragged her down the hall. One big hand banded her wrist and didn’t let go after she’d tripped and almost gone down.

Why was this so hot? Even the rough march down the hallway was turning her on. His proprietary grip on her wrist, his irritated gaze, knowing he was probably going to punish her for coming. Especially knowing he was going to punish her for coming. She shouldn’t like this, right? Books said some women were into it, but she’d never guessed she’d be one of them. And yet, the meaner he got the hotter it made her.

Ba

Her captor stopped and dropped her wrist, but he still held the end of her leash in one of his monster-sized hands. The anger hadn’t left his face, and he shook slightly.

Kate cowered back, stopping when she reached the end of the chain.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was going to happen until it was too late to stop. Sir.”

For a moment, he only stared at her, then he squeezed the bridge of his nose and tipped his head back.

“You called me Master.” His voice was hoarse, tense. “I’m sorry. You surprised me.”

Kate searched her mind, remembering him badgering her for something. Then she recalled what had accidentally slipped out.

“Is that why you’re angry? It was a mistake. I got my words all confused, but in my defense I was about to . . .” She made a hand gesture that she hoped would be sufficient. “I thought you were mad that I . . . finished without permission.”

“I’m not mad at you. I noticed you got off, but I can’t really do anything about that. I forgot to tell you to ask first, so I can’t punish you.”