Interview with a Master (14 page)

“Oh.
” Leticia sat back in the sofa and the sudden tension went out of her body. “So what did you do?”

“We talked about it,” I said. “Sherry told me the idea of being tortured aroused her, but she had never been able to explore the
fantasy because she feared being hurt. She didn’t want the kind of torture that was typified by the idea of enduring unimaginable punishment or beatings. She wanted to feel strung out with the torture of needing to come, and being made to wait and wait until she felt she would explode.”

“And you made that happen?”

I nodded and gave Leticia a wicked smile.

“
The following Friday night I told Sherry to arrive at the office an hour later. I needed to prepare. It was the first time I had actually put thought and planning into a session with a submissive, and it was the first time I had ever used real props. In a way it was a significant moment in my journey towards becoming a BDSM Master.”

“Props?”
Leticia asked.

“Props and planning,” I said. “They’re two essential ingredients for BDSM,” I explained. “There is only so much a Master can do without planning a session – not everything is spontaneous. And props – well a few items are essential in my opinion. I’m not advocating that your readers of this article spend thousands of dollars on equipment. I’m simply saying that a couple of items are handy to have.”

“Such as?”

“A riding crop, or some kind of a whip, a blindfold, and a pair of handcuffs, or rope. They’re my essentials. Some Masters like to intimidate
submissives. They lead them into a dark gloomy room filled with leather and manacles and chains and whipping benches – but all that stuff is really just for show. It’s not necessary for the average man looking to explore the BDSM lifestyle with his partner.”

Leticia
wrote everything down dutifully, and then flipped over to a new page. She shifted on the sofa, so that she was sitting upright with her knees pressed together and her feet on the floor. She looked up at me like a student about to be asked the first question of an important exam.

I had her attention and interest…

“When Sherry arrived at the office that evening, I led her downstairs to the production room. As I said before, it was really a converted underground garage. The floor was concrete and the walls makeshift. I had moved the production benches around to create a large table on one side of the room.

“Sherry came down the stairs and stopped suddenly in astonishment. I saw the look on her face – she was confused, but excited. I heard her gasp, and then a shiver ran through her body.
She saw coiled lengths of rope on the table and she drifted towards them in a dream-like, hypnotic state. I snatched at her wrist and told her to undress. She was wearing a sweater and loose pants. She slid them off and stood in just a pair of red panties. I stood close behind her and felt her tremble. I pulled her hair away from her neck and bit her. Her knees buckled. ‘You will not come tonight. Do you understand your Master?’ Sherry nodded. Suddenly she was anxious. I reached my hand around and pinched one of her nipples hard. She gasped. ‘I am going to use you for my pleasure this evening – your mouth and your pussy. You will give yourself to me and only to me. There will be no orgasm for you’.

“I took her by the hand and led her to the side of the table. I tied her wrists together. When I looked into Sherry’s face she was panting in short
agitated breaths. Her lips were parted and her eyes were wide and unblinking. She was incredibly aroused.

“I led her away from the bench and stood her in the middle of the floor. The
n I tied an extra length of rope to her wrists and ran it through a ring-bolt that I had screwed into the ceiling. Sherry hadn’t noticed it up until that moment. I pulled the rope so her wrists were suspended above her head and she was completely at my mercy.”

Leticia
’s eyes were hunting mine. Her face was flushed. There was crimson color on her cheeks and in a rash across her throat. She had stopped writing. She was watching me, seeming to hang breathlessly on every word.

“I let Sherry
dangle from the ceiling for a few moments, admiring the shape of her body, enjoying the vulnerability of her. I tied a silk scarf over her eyes as a blindfold and stood in front of her, keeping my voice low and even as I told her all the things she would be made to do that night. Sherry smiled at me through trembling lips. I squeezed her nipple again, tugging gently, and she let out a husky gasp.

“I had bought clothes pins. I sucked on her tiny breasts until both her nipples were jutting and firm, and then I placed a pin onto each of her nipples. Sherry flinched and cringed. She made a soft whimpering sound in the back of her throat. I flicked one of the pins with my fingers and Sherry went suddenly stiff as though she had been electrocut
ed. ‘Do you like that?’ I asked. Her mouth fell open, her jaw hung slack. Her lips were wet and glistening, and she groaned again.

“
I didn’t wait for an answer. I ran my hands down her stomach. A rash of little bumps sprang up along her arms. I slid my hand over the damp silk of her panties and pressed my palm hard against her mound. Sherry bucked her hips once, and then thrust herself forward urgently, rubbing and grinding herself against my hand. I let her. I let her writhe and squirm, hanging from the hook in the ceiling until I could tell that she was about to thrill. I pulled my hand away and she groaned aloud with a sound like a devastated ache. ‘I told you not to come tonight,’ I said. Sherry caught her breath and made a little sobbing sound. I pressed my hand back against the aching dampness of her pussy again and her whole body went stiff as she tried to resist her natural need to orgasm. I slid my fingers along her slit, pressing the damp fabric into the cleft of her pussy. She bit down on her lip. ‘You’re so fucking wet,’ I marveled. ‘I can feel the heat and the dampness of you.’

“I tugged at the elastic of her panties and she swung towards me, caught off balance. I hooked a finger down inside the waistband and tore them from her. I took the tattered shreds of her underwear and held them in my hand. ‘Open your mouth’.

“Sherry obeyed. I pressed the panties between her lips and told her to suck her juices from them.”

Leticia
moved on the sofa like she was perched on the edge of a bed of nails. She was uncomfortable. She resettled herself. The color on her cheeks was a hectic flush.

“I had bought a riding crop from a local store,” I said. I wasn’t really looking at
Leticia now. I was staring off into the distance, wandering rather than pacing, my memories vivid and all-consuming. “It was just a standard crop – nothing special. I swished it in the air and it made a wicked hissing sound.  Sherry heard the new sound and winced.

“‘You have displeased me,’ I told Sherry. ‘You’ve acted like a wanton little whore tonight. You were told this evening was about giving your Master pleasure, and yet you try to use me to give yourself an orgasm,’ my voice was hard and harsh – the voice of a stranger, but it was all part of the scene. But Sherry didn’t know that. ‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted. ‘Please forgive me.’

“I cut the whip through the air again, and then went behind her. I drew out the seconds, building her anxiety. Then I traced the tip of the crop down her back. She arched her body, and the knuckles of her spine stood proud against her skin like a string of pale little pearls. I drew the whip down until it was sliding along the cleft of her clenched bottom and then rubbing back and forth along the moist gap between her parted thighs.”

I stopped in mid-step and suddenly turned to
Leticia, my eyes clear and focused, the memories set aside for an instant.

“Have you ever been whipped by a riding crop?”

Leticia looked at me with horror in her eyes. “Of course not!” she blushed.

I shrugged. “Well it hurts. It hurts like hell. A good cut of a riding crop will bring tears to a brave man’s eyes. The pain is sharp and severe – so I was very careful with Sherry. I didn’t want to cause her pain – and that wasn’t the kind of pain she wanted me to introduce her to.  So I lined the crop up with one of the taut cheeks of her bottom and tapped it – repeatedly, using short fast strokes from my wrist. Sherry flinched at the first touch of the crop, and then as I tapped her again and again in the same spot, a bright red flush of heat spread across her bottom. She balanced on one leg, swinging from the rope, trying to draw herself away from me. She shifted her weight, dancing from one foot to the other as though she were standing on hot coals – and all the while I kept lightly tapping the same spot on her bottom until she was whimpering
softly and swaying on her arms.

“I stood back. Sherry’s breathing was ragged. I knew the throbbing sting from the crop would be a lingering burn for some time.
I told her she should thank her Master, and she did.

“‘Good girl,’ I said. Then I unfastened my
pants. My cock was as hard as a length of iron bar. Sherry turned her head as if to look over her shoulder, even though she was blindfolded. She sensed what was coming. I saw the fine muscles of her calves and thighs flex as she spread her legs wider. I pressed myself hard against her and slid all the way inside the wet clenching warmth of her pussy.

“Sherry’s head fell forward between her raised arms. I clamped my hands around her waist to hold her in place and thrust into her again and again. She was sobbing, trembling. She muttered words I couldn’t understand like she was in the delirium of some fever. I felt the muscles in my chest and forearms seize tight, and I was snarling and growling through clenched
teeth as each thrust became a shuddering impact.

“‘Come!’ I hissed
in Sherry’s ear suddenly. I was right on the edge of erupting. Every fiber of my body was strung tight, like a bow drawn and held by the archer for too long. The tremble of exertion spread from my legs and burned like fire. I heard Sherry gasp and cry out – and then she was writhing and spasming and swinging from the ropes, her whole body seized in violent convulsions. The sudden grasp and pulse of her was like a tight grip around the length of me. I lasted just an instant longer, and then felt the release of my own orgasm like the crash of a wave. I clung to Sherry, both of us spent and exhausted, both of us held upright by the rope in the ceiling. It was one of the most shattering orgasms of my life.”

Leticia sat back, like she was drained just from hearing the story re-told. “You let Sherry have an orgasm after all.”

“Of course,” I said simply. “I had always intended to – I just didn’t let her know. I didn’t want her to take her own orgasms for granted. I wanted her to know that her pleasure was now under my control.”

“It sounds like one heck of a night,” Leticia said.

“It was,” I agreed, “but that was just the start of it. I still haven’t told you about the table and the rest of the rope.”

Leticia stood up suddenly and came a couple of steps closer to me. “I need a break,” she said. She disappeared down the hallway for several minutes and when she came back she had changed into faded old jeans and a soft pink top that buttoned down the front. I said nothing. Leticia went into the kitchen, and I watched the way her bottom moved in her jeans with appreciation. She glanced back over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide and bemused, like she knew I had been admiring her.

“Coffee?”

“Good idea,” I said. I was suddenly weary. I eased myself into one corner of the tiny sofa and rubbed the knotted muscles at the back of my neck. There was the blunt, distant pulse of a headache beginning to throb behind my eyes.

Maybe I was drinking too much.

Maybe I wasn’t drinking enough…

Leticia
brought me a steaming mug of coffee. There was a smile on her face: a secret womanly smile that made her lips soft and moist. I leaned forward to take the cup in both hands and the top of her blouse gaped open. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I caught a tantalizing glimpse of firm breast and ruby-red nipple. I sat back with the coffee. Leticia sauntered away into the kitchen. She was humming softly to herself. She picked up her own cup and stopped in the doorway. The bright light silhouetted her clearly: the curve of her hips and the narrowness of her waist.

“I have a question for you,” I said. “Do you want me to ask it now, or after I tell you what I did with Sherry on the table?”

Leticia sipped at her coffee, and for a moment I thought she hadn’t heard me. She seemed to be lost in some private secret thought. I waited.

“Finish the story with Sherry,” she said softly. “You know how I hate to have my notes disorganized.”

I set my cup down on the small table and rubbed my eyes. They felt gritty.

“I untied Sherry from the
hook, but left her wrists bound,” I began, picking up the story as though returning to an open page of a book. “I took the blindfold off. She blinked at me. Her panties had fallen from her mouth when she had orgasmed. I left them where they had fallen and led Sherry over to the table. She stood, wide-eyed and panting. Her legs were trembling so that she could hardly stand. I took the pins from her nipples and for a moment, there was an expression of blessed relief on her face. Then the blood raced back into her breasts, and she contorted in exquisite pain – like the pain you feel when you have pins and needles, and you stomp your foot to get the blood flowing again. It was like that – only the intensity amplified because of the sensitivity of her nipples. Sherry writhed. I held her bound wrists and watched her face.