Interview with a Master (23 page)

I stopped pacing. I stood still. For a long moment I said nothing – I just stared into Leticia’
s eyes, enjoying this new passionate side of her personality that I hadn’t witnessed before.

“Leticia,
do you remember the definition I gave you for
‘do ut des’
?” I asked kindly.

She nodded
.

“It means
‘I give that you may give’
. It might as well be the slogan for healthy BDSM relationships. The lifestyle is not about some man standing over a woman and using her body simply to
take
his pleasure. Yes, sometimes, in some circumstances, that happens. But in all of my BDSM experiences, it has been about reciprocal giving.
I give pleasure
, so that
she will give back
to me. No relationship can last if it is one-sided. There are women who receive a great deal of emotional satisfaction from giving pleasure, and they are less interested in their own sexual needs, but the key here is the word ‘give’ – not ‘take’. Sometimes a random BDSM scene might be just about the Master, but in any kind of an ongoing BDSM relationship, it is important that both the Master and the submissive are truly satisfied. Otherwise, it’s not a relationship worth being in, is it?”

“No,” Leticia agreed.

“Caroline was a highly sexual, erotic woman. Her satisfaction came in physical forms, not emotional. But there is more to it than that, Leticia,” I explained. “For Masters like me, orgasm denial is an important punishment technique in the training process.”

Leticia picked up her pen.  “Should I write this down?”

I nodded. “If you want to fully understand, yes.”

I prowled to the edges of the kitchen, moving in
and out of the shadows as I began to pace again. “I don’t believe in inflicting pain – especially on a woman. To me, pain is unworthy of a Master, and totally unnecessary. I know there are some submissives that are aroused by pain, but they’re not the ones I have ever chosen to take on. For me, it is crucial that the submissive knows the rules and knows the consequences for disobedience. My preferred method of punishment is to deny her orgasms. Depending on the severity of the infraction, I might deny her for a day, a week… sometimes maybe longer. But the whole punishment system depends on one thing…” I left the sentence unfinished, the answer hanging in the air.

“She must have orgasms,”
Leticia said with slow realization.

I winked at her and smiled. “Precisely. If the submissive doesn’t know how intense and overwhelming I can make her orgasms, then she doesn’t appreciate what she stands to lose from disobeying me. If I give her orgasms, she fully appreciates what she might miss out on if she crosses the established lines. I find it works better than a riding crop, better than any other punishment.”

Leticia nodded. “It makes good sense.”

“So bringing Caroline to orgasm with my mouth on that sofa was more
than about just pleasing her. It served many purposes.”

“What happened after Caroline
orgasmed?”

“She was like a rag doll,” I said. “Her orgasm left her drained and satiated. I unbuckled my belt and went to where s
he lay. Her head was turned to the side, propped on the armrest of the sofa. My cock was hard. Caroline had her eyes closed, and her chest was still heaving as she caught her breath. I rubbed the hardness of my cock across her lips, and her mouth fell open obediently to me. I watched the swell of her breasts as she breathed, and held her mouth open for me to use.

“I was in no hurry. I enjoyed the feel of myself brushing across her wet tongue, and sliding deeper down her throat. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at me, her expression passive and willing. I covered her eyes with my hand, so that her focus became only the feel of my hardness between her lips.”

“You covered her eyes with your hand?”

“Yes. Guys are all visual. Women are much more sensory. Their arousal comes from so many different stimuli. I wanted Caroline to concentrate on the hardness of my cock, and on the soft wet sounds as she sucked me – and the sounds of my breathing as I became more aroused.”

“Why was that important?”

“Because I wanted Caroline to
focus on me, and become aware of how I felt and the way I responded. I didn’t want her to read my expression, I wanted her to read and understand my body, so that she would begin to know and recognize the signs, even in the darkness.

“I clench
ed my muscles and my cock leapt and pulsed and thickened within her mouth. Caroline made a soft sound of delight. I did it again, and her sound became one of hunger.

“I slid myself from between her lips and reached for Caroline’s arm. She seemed to sense instinctively what I needed. She fell to her knees on the floor and bent herself over the sofa, parting her legs wide for me and resting her face on the cushion. She looked over her shoulder to me and her eyes were smoky.

“She was still wet from her orgasm. I entered her slowly, drawing out the moment and feeling every ripple and pulse of her body as it wrapped snugly around my shaft. Caroline closed her eyes again and moaned, the sound muffled by the sofa cushion. When I was all the way inside her, I began to move. I dragged my fingernails down her spine and her back arched in a slow voluptuous thrill. I tugged off her bikini top and reached around to cup one of her swaying breasts in the palm of my hand. Her flesh was warm, her nipple hard as a pebble. I squeezed and kneaded it gently as she began to rock her body in time with each thrust of my hips.

“I entangled my fingers in her hair and then suddenly thrust hard and urgently. Caroline groaned. I felt a mighty shudder ripple through her body and her bones seemed to soften with renewed desire.”

Leticia got up suddenly from the kitchen table and tossed her head in a gesture I couldn’t read. She breathed hard and hugged her arms tight around her body and shivered. My shirt she was wearing bunched and gaped around her breasts but she seemed not to notice.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s just hot,” Leticia said softly. There was a peculiar expression on her face. “I need to stretch my legs for a moment.”

I stayed back, leaning against the kitchen counter, and watched Leticia move. Her steps were light and stealthy, bristling with some hidden tension. She stalked close to me and I reached out for her. She stopped and stared up into my face, her huge eyes startled. I brushed my finger across her cheek. She began to tremble.

“You are every bit as beautiful as Caroline, and much more than that in so many ways,” I reassured her in a whisper. Leticia looked like she might cry. She was suddenly rigid. I put one hand gently on her shoulder. I could smell the scent of her perfume and an aroma like apples in her hair. Her eyes stayed locked onto mine. “And one day you are going to be an amazing journalist. Don’t be in too much hurry, Leticia. For anything. You’re still young. That’s your problem. There is a lot of good and bad about life you still have to learn.”

I pulled her gently towards me. Her eyes became urgent, grew even wider, but she
came to me unresisting. I leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, and then stepped back before the last shreds of my control gave way, and my want and desire overwhelmed me again.

My hands were shaking slightly. I thrust them into my pockets.

It was late, and the atmosphere in the kitchen had suddenly become dangerous. I listened in the silence and heard rain still falling lightly outside.

“The worst of the storm seems to have finally passed,” I said just a little too loudly for it to
sound natural. “And your sweater should be dry by now...”

Leticia nodded numbly. There was a far-away look in her eyes for long seconds until the words finally registered and she glanced aroun
d, dull and unfocussed, as though she had forgotten where we were and why we were here.

“My notes…” she began. “They’re not finished. Is there more to what happened between
you and Caroline in the hotel?”

I was tempted to lie – but I didn’t.

I nodded.

Leticia sat back down, and I went to the table and turned a chair around, sitting
astride it so that the backrest was like a physical barrier between us. I folded my arms across the top of the chair and rested my chin on my forearms, brooding into the shadows beyond where Leticia sat waiting silently, with the notebook in her lap and her legs crossed.

“I drove my cock repeatedly
into Caroline’s pussy,” I began again at last, “marveling at how perfectly our bodies seemed to fit together, and how in tune she seemed to be with my own needs. It was as though she could anticipate each thrust, and she used her body to amplify the sensations I could feel building within me.

“She began to make breathless little sounds of desire. I put my hands on her hips and demanded she tell me how it felt to submit her body to her Master – how it felt to give herself for my pleasure. Caroline snarled, like some ferocious wild lioness at the end of her
tamer’s whip, and the words tumbled from her in a litany of filthy erotic language that no lady would ever use. Her crude coarse words, and the tone she used, drove me feverishly towards the edge.

“
I heard my breath rasping hoarse as sandpaper in my throat. At the last possible moment I reeled away, my chest wet with sweat, my heart thumping like a drum. Caroline turned round on her knees and took the length of me urgently into her mouth. I threw my head back and groaned at the ceiling as her lips wrapped tight around the head of my cock and the first pulse of my orgasm erupted across her tongue. She swallowed, drew a deep satisfied breath, and then took me into her mouth again until I was spent and exhausted and barely able to stand.”

There was no more to the story. I
leaned back on the seat of the chair and sighed. I sensed the first symptoms of a headache and shook my head as if that might actually help. It didn’t.

Leticia continued to stare down at the page of her notebook long after she had finished writing. The silence in the kitchen was suddenly deafening.

She looked up at me at last, with a fragile expression on her face and her bottom lip trembling. “I think I might get my sweater and go home.” She spoke like there was so much more she wanted to say, but wouldn’t.

Leticia followed me to the top of the stairs. The door of the study was open. The fire had burned down to glowing coals so that the room was almost shrouded in total darkness. I waited at the threshold. Leticia drifted into the room and I saw the outline of her moving towards the leather sofa. I stared discreetly do
wn the hall, and a moment later she was back by my side, wearing her sweater once more with my shirt in her hand. She offered it to me. “Thanks,” she said.

I walked with her downstairs and into the foyer. I held the front door open. “Tomorrow?” she asked uncertainly.

“Of course,” I smiled. “I’ll call you.”

I watched her to her little car. It started in a belch of grey smoke. The engine sputtered, then roared to life and Leticia drove out through the main gates and into the misting night.

I pushed the door closed and stood in the silence.

I held the shirt up and inhaled the
lingering scent of her perfume.

* * *

When I knocked on Leticia’s door it was just before three o’clock in the afternoon. She greeted me with a smile and stepped aside for me to enter.

The apartment looked somehow bigger and brighter. Leticia had thrown open all the drapes so that warm afternoon sunlight streamed into the living room. The window was open, and I could hear the muted sounds of the city drifting on the still air. Leticia was wearing a t-shirt and old jeans. I shrugged off my jacket and hung it over the back of a dining table chair.

I felt comfortable here. I felt comfortable with Leticia. Her smile was easy. I had spent the morning at a meeting in the heart of the city. I slipped the knot of my tie and unfastened the top button of my shirt, then set about rolling up my sleeves.

“Are you ready for a long afternoon?”

Leticia nodded. She had all of her notebooks stacked on the coffee table. Beside the books were loose pieces of paper. She picked up a sheaf of the pages and brought them to me.

“These are my editor’s notes,” she explained. “I’ve been on the phone
with the office since before lunchtime. The boss is excited about the article, Jonah. He’s keen to publish the first part of your story in next Saturday’s edition.”

I scanned the pages. Overshadowing the moment was the realization for us both that the interview was almost over.
In a couple more days, my story would be told. I felt the pang of impending loss like a dull ache in my chest that I couldn’t quite ignore. It was like a single dark cloud in a clear blue sky.

I handed the pages back, but the smile stayed firmly fixed on my face. “That’s fantastic, Leticia,” I said, and my enthusiasm was genuine. “I’m sure you will do a fine job.”

She shrugged and suddenly became self-conscious. She made a pained face. “Well if I don’t, it’s my ass,” she said. “My internship finishes soon. If this interview doesn’t convince the editor I have what it takes, I’m afraid I might be on the bus back home.”