Interview with a Master (12 page)

“
Sherry groaned. My cock went deep inside her mouth and I felt her tense and try to pull her head away. I held her there, and it took her a few seconds for her to become accustomed to the feel of me. When she relaxed, she looked up into my face as I began to use her mouth. Her eyes were watering. She was absolutely submissive to me – her body was mine to use as I pleased. I saw the silent joy in her expression and I gazed down at her fiercely, feeling my features begin to flush and coarsen with my own surging arousal.

“
I eased my cock from her mouth and she gasped. She was panting. Her lips were swollen and puffy, her lipstick smudged around the edges of her mouth. She took two deep breaths before I seized her by the hair and lifted her to her feet.

“I spun her around and forced her up against the office wall
. I told her to spread her hands and her feet. She pressed her face against the wall and stood there like she was being frisked by the cops. She looked back over her shoulder at me and arched her back so that her bottom was thrust out towards me, and she lifted herself up on tiptoes in silent invitation.

“I savored the sight of her. She was so slim, so perfect in every way. Her skin was pale, her waist tiny. I came up close behind her and I had my cock in my hand. I rubbed the swollen head of myself against the slick warm opening of her sex and Sherry’s mouth fell open in a silent ‘O’. She raised herself up a fraction of an inch and I guided myself into her, sliding deep
inside in one long stroke.

“Sherry’s body clenched. I could feel the grip of her and the pulse of her muscles as her body wrapped itself around the heat of me. She was wet and tight and warm, and I threw back my head and some kind of primal growl was torn from my lips. Sherry wriggled her hips and we became locked together like that, each of us lost for long moments. I clawed at her waist and buried my fingers deep into her flesh. I thrust myself deep inside her and then pulled back quickly. Sherry groaned
. She braced herself against the wall and her hands bunched into tiny fists. I pressed one hand between her shoulder blades and Sherry folded forward at the waist. I seized a handful of her hair and pulled. Her back arched, her head was thrown back. I reached around her body and wrapped my hand around her throat. I saw Sherry’s eyes grow wide and frenzied with sudden passion and she began to buck and push against me wildly. ‘Can I come?’ she gasped, her voice sounding like it was far away. I heard the sound vibrate beneath my fingers as it rasped in her throat. ‘No,’ I said cruelly. ‘You do not come without my permission. I’m not finished with you yet.’

“
Sherry whimpered. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. She pushed back against me with more determination and I thrust deeper into her with every stroke so that our bodies collided again and again as we built to our own climaxes.

“I
dragged my hand from her throat and reached down for her breasts. She had slid down the wall and was bent almost in half. I still had hold of her hair, tugging it firmly as I drove my cock into her. My hand cupped the swell of her breast and I trapped her nipple between my fingers and kneaded it. Sherry grunted and gasped. Her face was contorted from the effort of withholding her release. ‘I can’t wait…’ she cried out.

“I
squeezed her nipple one last time and then thrust two of my fingers into her open mouth. She sucked on them, overcome with a desperate passion. I felt the slide of her tongue, and her head began to bob up and down, as it had when she was on her knees before me. That was when I reached the point of no return. I wrenched my fingers from her mouth and locked my hands around Sherry’s waist. Then suddenly we were both crying out, our voices rising in the last few desperate seconds as I raced towards my release. Sherry’s cries mixed with mine. I heard her scream and squeal, and then I was coming, and so was she, our voices and bodies locked together in a ragged crescendo.”

I stood silently, drawing on the cigar. My memories drifted back over those months I shared with Sherry, so that for long moments I forgot
Leticia was in the room. I was a world away – another time and another place – and it wasn’t until I heard Leticia’s voice through the fog that I came back to the present with a start.

“Pardon?” She had said something I had missed.

“I said that you describe Sherry as a kind of nymphomaniac submissive wild woman,” Leticia repeated. “Was she really like that?”

I looked stern. “Everything I have told you is the truth. Everything,” I insisted, and then relaxed a little when I saw the
flinch in Leticia’s eyes. I drew on the cigar, and went pacing across the floor.

“Sherry had no limits,” I explained mollifying the sound of my voice. “Normally a Master wou
ld speak to a new submissive about the activities they are comfortable being involved in. Most submissives have a set of hard and soft limits. Soft limits are the ones that are negotiable. They’re important. Soft limits are those things that a submissive is reluctant to do, or might be unwilling to do until she gains more confidence in herself, or trust in her Master. The soft limits indicate the directions in which a Master can slowly begin to challenge a submissive – help her to broaden her experiences. Hard limits are those boundaries a submissive will not cross, and they have to be respected by a Master. Perhaps, in time, those boundaries and limitations might shift, or alter, but if they do, that decision should be the submissive’s. In my opinion, a Master has no right to pressure one of his subs to alter her hard limits.”

“But Sherry didn’t have any limits, right?”

“Right,” I said. “Sherry was willing to try absolutely anything and everything.”

Leticia
fell back into her chair and gave a soft little sigh. She glanced at her watch, and then started to comb her fingers through her hair. A soft blue cloud of cigar smoke twisted and hung in the air around the ceiling. “It’s late,” Leticia said, her expression almost tragic. “I have to go – but can I ask just one more question?”

I sighed. “If it’s quick?”

She sat up, her expression suddenly earnest. “Who is Trigg? I mean, what is she to you, Jonah? Is she your submissive, or a lover…?”

I gave her a wintery smile. “She’s a friend,” I said. “That’s all.”

* * *

“Hello, Jonah? It’s
Leticia.”

I had recognized her instantly, and I smiled. For some reason the sound of her voice made me feel absurdly pleased.

“Hello,” I said.

There was the
noise of murmured voices in the background, and Leticia’s voice was a conspiratorial whisper, as though she had the telephone close to her mouth and her hand cupped around the receiver.

“I was calling to make a time when I could see you again. We didn’t arrange anything before I left last night.”

“Well I’m free whenever it suits you.”

Her
tone became brighter. “Great. I’m actually finishing work right now – I always do half-days on Friday.”

I glanced at my watch. It was just after lunch. “Do you want to come over this afternoon?”

Leticia hesitated. “Well, I was actually wondering if you would like to come to my place tonight – for dinner. I told you I was a slow cooker. I figured with an entire afternoon to prepare, I should be able to feed you something that wouldn’t be burned.”

I smiled into the phone. “Sure,” I said. “That sounds fine. What time do you want me there?”

“Six? Is that too early?”

“Six will be fine.”

“Wonderful,” she seemed relieved. “I’ll see you then.”

She soun
ded like she was about to end the call and I cut in quickly. “Do you want me to bring anything – fire extinguisher, or maybe a bottle of wine?”

“I’m not that bad a cook, mister!” she feigned umbrage. “But some wine would be nice.
I’m in the mood for a drink.”

* * *

I always arrive five minutes early.

I’m never late.

Ever.

It’s a habit I developed at an early age, and one I adhere to ruthlessly. I believe it’s a sign of courtesy, but also a measure of how much importance you place on
the meeting, and whom it is you are about to meet. Arriving ten minutes late anywhere is a sign of arrogance, in Jonah Noble’s big book of rules to live by. Turning up anywhere late says – loud and clear – that you’re more important than the person who is expecting you, so they can damned-well wait until you’re good and ready to grace them with your presence.

I had been known to dismiss
submissives for arriving to training sessions late, sending them home in devastated tears. And I have been known to break off business deals, simply because the other guy was unable to get his ass to a meeting on time.

So when Tiny parked the car in
front of Leticia’s apartment block, it was several minutes before six o’clock. Old Hector, the doorman, came from the shadows under the awning and shuffled across the pavement.

I got out of the car and leaned
back in through the window. “Take yourself out for dinner, Tiny,” I reached into my wallet and pressed money into his huge hand. “You look like you could do with a decent feed. I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.”

T
he giant man’s face split into a surprised smile. He threw me a playful salute, and the car pulled away into the evening traffic. Hector walked with me into the foyer and we spent a couple of minutes chatting.

I rode the elevator to
Leticia’s floor, and knocked on the door. I heard her squeal in panic, and then the sound of footsteps.

“You can’t come in!” she shouted through the door. “I need three more minutes, okay?”

“Sure,” I smiled.

I went pacing back down the passageway.
I tucked the bottle of wine under my arm and checked my phone. There was a message from Trigg. I didn’t read it.

Then I saw the door to
Leticia’s apartment flung open and her head popped out through the doorway. She looked left, then right – saw me at last, and her face brightened into a wide happy grin.

Leticia
held the door open and stood back anxiously. I stepped over the threshold.

The apartment was filled with the aromas of roast meat and vegetables; the kind of country home-cooking that makes
a man’s mouth water. I saw a splash of fresh flowers in a vase on the table, and I got the sense that the whole apartment had been cleaned. I set the wine down beside the flower arrangement and then raised my eyebrows as I turned to Leticia.

She was wearing a simple white cotton dress. It bulged around the firm press of her breasts
, clung to the form of her waist, and ended just above her knees. She wore makeup, and I noticed a delicate silver bracelet around her wrist.

“What do you think?”
Leticia waved her arms wide.

“
I think you look... beautiful,” I said into the expectant silence. Leticia seemed to melt just a little, and then she blushed and transformed from a young woman into a shy sixteen-year-old girl for an instant, then back again. She looked up into my face with a yearning little expression, like a flower leaning towards the sunshine. “Thank you,” she whispered. She stood disconcertingly close, enveloping me with her scent. I could see the agitated rise and fall of her breasts under the thin cotton. She seemed to catch her breath for an instant. Her lips were soft and glossy…

I glanced towards the kitchen to distract myself. “Dinner smells great,” I said abruptly. I turned on my heel, thrust my tense fists deep into my pockets and cast my eyes around the
walls, giving myself time and breaking the spell of dangerous intimacy.

Leticia
’s smile was brittle: too wide and bright to be natural. She flitted around the apartment fluffing sofa pillows and straightening magazines. “I hope you like roast lamb.”

She went into the kitchen, and I opened the bottle of wine. When
Leticia came back into the living room, she was carrying plates.

The food was sensational.
Despite her self-depreciating comments, Leticia was actually a wonderful cook. I poured wine for us both and we laughed and talked easily until the meal was finished and the plates cleared away.

Leticia
led me towards the sofa. She drew her legs up beneath her and I saw a flash of toned brown thigh before she arranged the fabric of her dress around her and reached for the notebook.

“Last night you told me about your first time with Sherry,” she reminded me.
“You said it was the start of a sexy affair that lasted for several months. I’d like to know more…”

I stared down into my wine glass.
“Unlike Claire Moreland, Sherry was very discreet – very composed,” I said. “No one in the office had the slightest idea anything was going on between the two of us. Sherry did her job and kept her routines. I was painfully aware that everything should appear normal to the rest of the staff, so I was careful in what we did – but we still did plenty of things as the days between our Friday night sex sessions seemed to drag on forever.”