Her Father, My Master: Mentor (17 page)

I very nearly screamed when I felt his rough finger, pressing against my engorged clit.  He was trying to make me moan and whimper, but I wouldn’t do him.  I would obey him.

It was so difficult, though.  I had always had a hard time keeping quiet during an orgasm, and my master was bound and determined to make me climax.  As
he thrust in and out, faster and faster, his finger, or possibly his thumb, pressed against my aching
, pulsing
clit.  My body was jerking now underneath him, and I was quickly approaching that edge.  My breath came in ragged gasps, and a whimper escaped me. I couldn’t help it.

Mr. Hendricks pressed down even harder on my clit, almost unbearably roughly, and commanded me.  “No noise.”  I nodded.  My eyes were tearing up, not from sadness or anger
or pain
, but shear effort, and a couple of tears escape my tightly shut eyelids, trailing down my face.

He was so good.  He felt so good inside me, his finger felt exquisite once again against my clit, and I couldn’t bear it any longer.

My gasping ceased as I clamped my mouth shut in an effort to keep from vocalizing the pleasure I felt, as an intense orgasm washed over my body, centered around my throbbing clit.  My cunt convulsed tightly around my master’s cock as he pumped, and he kept the pressure on my sensitive clit, riding my climax out with me.

I didn’t make a sound.  That surprised me.

“Good girl,” Mr. Hendricks said, his breath now coming in ragged gasps.  His finger lifted from my clit, and he grabbed my hips, now focused solely on his own pleasure.  He pounded against even as my pussy tightened around him, as I rode the rest of my orgasm out.  His thrusts were becoming erratic, spastic.  He was going to coming soon, I could feel his.

“Yes!” he bellowed, and unloaded inside me, his come hotly spurting against my tight wet walls.  He pounded against me powerfully, and each time he bore down, I knew more of his semen was erupting out from his cock, filling me up.  I loved making my master come.

Spent, he collapsed on top of me, his sweaty body, pressing me down on the bed.  Still, I didn’t move.  I could scarcely breathe because of his weight, but my master was more important that breathing.

“Good girl,” he rasped, and roughly kissed me.  I returned that kiss.  “Open your eyes.”  I obeyed him, and his
rugged, mature face came into view once more.  “That’s a good pet,” he said solemnly, brushing some stray curls from my face.  I nodded.

I was a good pet, and I was his.  All his.

Mr. Hendricks pulled out of me, and stood.  He stretched, and I could hear bones and joints crack from his effort.  I didn’t make a move, though.  He hadn’t release me yet.

He then went to the shower wordlessly, and I watched him.  I couldn’t move, and I wouldn’t.  Even though my sweat-slickened body was beginning to grow cold.  My nipples hardened and ached.
  I shivered.
  But still I didn’t move.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel.  “Go take a shower, pet,” he commanded, and finally I was able to move.  I got up from the bed, and did as he commanded.

We went through the other post-coital motions with me in silence, and him giving single worded orders again.  He commanded me to go downstairs, and retrieve my clothing.  A slight misting rain had begun during our session, and my clothes were a little damp.  I savored the feeling of the cool, light rain on my naked skin though, as I retrieved my belongings.

“Dress,” he said once I was back in the living room, and I obeyed wordlessly, as I always did.  I pulled my underwear back on, then my skirt and shirt. Finally, I stepped back into my shoes.  Strange.  The feeling of fabric against my skin actually felt weirder than being naked.  At least, it did while I was in my master’s presence.

“Good girl.”  He stepped forward and embraced my damp form slightly, the rain seeping into his clothing too now.  “Remember what I said.”

I nodded, my chin bumping against his chest.  “Now go.”

I left, feeling exhilarated.  The metal collar had grown warm against my skin, but I could still sense it.  My master had captured me, and I was his.

But I still had to wait through the summer.  The long, tortuous summer.

I would do it though.  For him.

If you enjoyed this, be sure to read the second in this series:
Her Father, My Master: Enthralled

Krystal Waverly is thrown headlong into the most intense, erotic relationship she's ever known in her young life. Mr. Hendricks - her former best friend's father - is her master, and he's everything a master should be: cruel at times, compassionate at others, and always fierce, and always dominating. And she's just agreed to dedicate a year of her life to him.

Krystal is plunged into the most extreme of BDSM lifestyles, as she is made utterly dependent on this man. She must do everything he says, and he demands a lot from her. He in turn introduces her to more and more different kinds of sexual play - everything from anal to whipping to being forced.

But their strange relationship isn't without its trials. Can they survive the entire year like this, and when it's over, will they want to continue it?

This is a steamy erotic romance, and recommended only for mature readers, due to multiple and graphically described sex scenes, and themes of BDSM, bondage, spanking and other abuse, anal, forceful sex, and multiple instances of oral and vaginal intercourse.