Interview with a Master (7 page)

“What kind of things were they saying?”

“I can’t remember,” Leticia hedged. “But the words themselves didn’t turn me on,” she lifted her face and looked at me at last.  “It was the attitude. It was the way the man spoke, the hoarse cry of his voice, and the expression on his face,” Leticia explained. “And it was in the way he made my girlfriend pant and plead for more. She was wanton – a totally different character to the girl I thought I knew. It was as if the way the man treated her, changed her completely from a quiet nerd into a thousand dollar whore.”

“Did he spank her?”

Leticia nodded. “A little. Not hard or anything. But he slapped and squeezed her breasts, and he pulled her hair. He called her his sexy slut… names like that. And every thing he did seemed to drive her wilder until she collapsed into a screaming spasm and had an orgasm.”

“And then what did you do?
” I prompted her. “Did you go back to your room, or did you talk to them about what happened?”

“Oh, god no!”
Leticia cringed at the thought. “I stayed standing in the doorway. The man crawled onto his knees on the bed and began stroking himself. He was looking right at me. He seemed to be staring right into my soul. I watched him, and I stood there, while I felt his eyes all over me – undressing me – and then he suddenly cried out and groaned as he shot his stuff all over my girlfriend’s face and breasts.”

“And then…?”

“And then I fled down the hallway to my room. I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what to do, so I went to my room. The next morning, when I went downstairs for breakfast, the man was gone. My girlfriend and I never spoke about it. Ever. It was just one of those things.”

“
Do you still think about that night?”

Leticia
nodded. “Every day,” she muttered wistfully.

She got up suddenly from the sofa, looking slightly shaky – almost as if she were
appalled by the secret she had shared. “I need coffee,” she said. “Would you like one?”

I nodded.
Leticia disappeared into the kitchen and I went to the living room window. There was a view of the inner city. I stood watching the headlights on the street below, and I brooded.

My instinct was something I had always trusted in my business dealings, and with women. And right now my intuition was warning me: there was an opportunity here. It was a predatory sense – the same sense of the hunter who stalks a vulnerable prey. I sensed that within
Leticia was a woman crying out for an opportunity to explore her sexual fantasies that had been stifled by a stale relationship and small town claustrophobia for too many years. It would take only a nudge…

There had been a time when
I had seized moments like this with bold ruthless confidence. But now, as I stared down at the city, I sensed my own hesitation, and with it, an unfamiliar conflict.

‘
A fuck you knock back, is one you will never make up,’
a business associate once told me, and I had pretty much lived by that questionable motto throughout my adult life, spurning every opportunity to develop deeper relationships with women for the freedom to bed whoever I pleased.

Leticia
came back into the living room carrying two mugs. She handed one to me and stood there, shifting her weight from foot to foot self-consciously for a moment. I could see the turmoil behind her eyes. She looked down at the floor, then back up into my face.

“I
can imagine what you think of me,” Leticia began. “But I haven’t had the exotic lifestyle you have lived.” It sounded like a prepared speech she had rehearsed in the kitchen. “I’ve never been the kind of woman who would sleep around, but I would appreciate you not judging me as some frigid prude just because I don’t have a long list of sexual liaisons, just as I am not judging you for your own lifestyle choices.”

The speech delivered with suitable defiance
, she took a quick tremulous breath, and brushed loose hair away from her eyes.

“
I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

We sipped our coffee in silence.
Leticia fetched her notebook from the table and curled herself up in the corner of the sofa. She arched her eyebrows at me.

“
Do ut des.
” She got the pronunciation right this time. She was a quick learner.

I set the coffee mug down and my mind drifted back to that Sunday so many years before, when Claire had returned from the weekend in New York
she had shared with her secret husband. I started to smile, remembering that night’s events with fond satisfaction.

“I photocopied
the page from Claire’s diary and left it on her kitchen table for her to find,” I said, picking up the thread of the story again. “Below her handwritten note, I had scribbled my own message, demanding she meet me in the study at nine o’clock. I was there fifteen minutes early. Claire was already waiting for me.”

“Was she pissed?”

“She was furious,” I grinned. “There was a wicked, malicious glint in her eye. I stepped into the room and she was pacing the floor like a caged lioness. She had her arms folded across her chest as if she was trying to restrain herself, and there were livid spots of color on her cheeks. She was literally shaking with rage.

“
I asked her how her husband was. She glared at me, and told me I had no right to go into the guesthouse. I took the little diary from my pocket and taunted her by waving it in her face. I told her that little book gave me the right to do whatever I wanted. It was like showing a red rag to a bull. She flew at me.”

“Attacked you?”

“Clawed at my face,” I said. “She was desperate. She couldn’t afford to lose her husband’s money, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only other man she had played her little games with. It was all falling down around her. Suddenly the boxing and martial arts lessons paid off. I caught her wrists and held them away from my eyes. We were pressed against each other. I could feel her heart racing like a trip-hammer. Her mouth was a red slash across her face. I tightened my grip – and suddenly something behind her eyes changed. I think that was the instant she realized I was a lot stronger than her. But it wasn’t only that. There was suddenly something else in her eyes. It was arousal. She let out a broken little gasp and her voice was strangely husky.

“I pushed her back until she was up against a desk. Her mouth fell open in surprise. Then I spun her round and press
ed my hand into the middle of her back. She folded forward, bent over the desk, and started to thrash and squirm. I ignored her. I held her down with one hand and kicked her legs apart. Then I reached up beneath her skirt and rubbed her pussy. She was wet – her panties were soaking. She groaned, and then suddenly went into another spasm of thrashing and snarling. I tugged the lace aside and slid two of my fingers deep inside her pussy. She arched her back and let out a sob of desire.

“
I told her to lay still. She grunted. I slid my fingers in and out of her pussy and she started to rock her hips. I felt her push down hard against my hand. She was trying to grind her clit against my palm. I eased my fingers from inside her and reached round. ‘Open your mouth!’ I told her. She did. I forced both fingers between her lips and she sucked her juice from them.”

I stopped talking.
Leticia looked up at me. Her cheeks and neck were flushed with hectic color, and there was a trance-like look in her eyes. She looked away quickly and cleared her throat.

“How did it make you feel? Taking control like you did?”

“I loved it,” I said. “It felt ‘right’. It felt natural. I rubbed my cock against Claire’s pussy and then thrust myself all the way into her in a single stroke. She groaned and I felt her hips rock and sway to accommodate me. I kept my hand pressing down between her shoulder blades and started to fuck her. She lifted her hips, and began to push back against me. I slapped her bottom so hard it left a red handprint on the flesh, and Claire seemed to suddenly thrill beneath me. It was like some deep shudder rocked through her entire body. I slapped her again, just as hard, and then drove myself into her until I was ready to explode.

“Claire wriggled one of her hands between her legs and began to play with her clit. I felt her fingers
brush against my shaft as I was sliding inside her. I seized her arm and pinned it behind her back. She moaned in frustration. I told her she wasn’t to come. She didn’t have my permission. She started to plead.”

I looked at
Leticia. “That was the real power,” I said softly. “That was what turned me on, and catapulted me into the world of BDSM. I loved the way Claire pleaded and begged for her release. It wasn’t about physical domination for me. It still isn’t. It’s about that emotional transfer of power: the command and control. That’s what turns me on, Leticia. That’s what I find so addictive about being a Master. I love the power, given to me by the submissive. It’s symbolic of their trust. Claire showed me how intoxicating that feeling could be. After that night in the study, my life changed.”

I sighed. I was tired.
I checked my watch. It was getting late. I massaged the back of my neck and felt myself deflate. I went to the dining table. I swept my jacket off the back of the chair and started to roll down the sleeves of my shirt. “I think we’ve covered enough for the night,” I said.

Leticia
came off the sofa, then saw my expression and nodded reluctantly. “Okay,” she said. “I understand. When… when can I see you again?”

“We can continue tomorrow night, if you’re free. How about my place, after dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Leticia smiled brightly.

“Eight o’clock?”

“It’s a date,” she said.

* * *

I poured the glass half-full and swallowed it. Then I re-filled the tumbler and sank into the deep leather chair. This one I would sip slowly.

Leticia
watched me with cool expressionless eyes. I slipped the knot of my tie and leaned back until I was staring at the ceiling. The old leather creaked and groaned around me.

“This
is my office,” I said. I took a sip from the glass and turned my head towards her. She was sitting across the desk, knees pressed together, hands folded in her lap, as though the setting intimidated her.

The walls were paneled with dark grained wood, the room lit by a
n oyster-shaped desk lamp and an old antique light fixture that hung from a chain in the ceiling. One wall was lined with shelves of leather-bound books, another wall hung with old artworks, their thick paint cracked with age, the frames heavy and ornate. There were intricate models of World War I fighter planes atop a long wooden shelf behind the desk, and on a lower shelf were dust-covered trophies and long-forgotten business awards.

It was a man’s room. It smelled of cigar smoke and brandy fumes.

“It’s… it’s very severe,” Leticia said politely, frowning as her eyes swept around the walls.

I nodded. “So was my father.”

“Your father?”

I nodded
again. “A lot of the things in this room were his. They’re all I kept when I sold the old estate.”

She glanced around the
walls again and tried to find some kind of new appreciation for the room. She couldn’t.

“Well… it’s nice that you have memories of him…”
Leticia offered weakly.

‘They’re not memories, they’re reminders,” I said and sat upright in the chair. “I filled my office with the
se things of his as a permanent reminder of what a bastard he was – and to ensure I didn’t turn out to be the same kind of man.”

“Oh,”
Leticia said. She was uncomfortable and lost for words for a moment.

And then she asked quietly, “Did you?”

“No… and yes,” I said. “I’m not the same bastard my old man was – I’m a different kind of bastard. For him, power came from wealth and influence over businesses and his rivals. For me, the power I sought was on a far more personal level.”

“Over women.”

“Yes,” I said. “Over women.”

“So, why are we here tonight
if this room reminds you of your father?” Leticia puzzled. “Why aren’t we in your study, or in some other room of the house?”

I slapped the tabletop. “Because of this,” I said
. I rubbed my hand across the faded leather surface. “I wanted you to see it.”

“The desk?”

“Yes. It’s where the next part of my journey towards becoming a Master took place.”

Leticia
arched an eyebrow. “Should I make notes?”

“That’s up to you,” I said. I pushed myself out of the chair and got to my feet. I took another sip from the tumbler then set the glass on the desk. I needed to pace.

Leticia buried her hand into her bag for her notebook, then turned in her chair so she could follow me with her eyes. I prowled across the floor restlessly.

“
After that night in the study, Claire knew I was in control, and although she still fought and defied me from time to time, she gave in more readily, until she simply stopped resisting and became obedient to my commands. In fact, I think she developed a taste for submission. Maybe it was something completely new to her – maybe she was discovering something about herself. Maybe it was an unexplored kink that turned her on,” I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. I was nineteen years old. Some of the tasks I set Claire were things I am not proud of – but all I had to go on was the way she had treated me. At the time I didn’t know any better. I didn’t understand anything about BDSM. All I knew was that Claire had blackmailed me and used me for her own pleasure. I set about doing the exact same thing to her.

“Our encounters became a dangerous game. The thrill of having power over her body was intoxicating, but it wasn’t
enough. I started taking risks.

“One afternoon,
as we were finishing study for the day, I summoned her to my father’s office. I told her to meet me there at exactly 4:30 pm. I told her that if she was even a minute late, she would be punished.

“My father’s office
was on the first floor, a few doors down from the study. Claire had never been in the room before and the door was always closed. I knew my father was away until that evening. When I heard Claire knock, I was sitting in this chair, behind this desk, waiting for her.

“
She came into the room cautiously. ‘Over here,’ I told her gruffly. ‘Stand beside me and undress.’ She obeyed me. She unbuttoned her blouse and handed it to me. Then she slid out of her skirt. I took it from her. She stood in front of me in her underwear, and I could see the anxiety and rising alarm in her eyes. She was scared, but the fear aroused her. She was sweating and trembling. I could smell the scent of her panic, but also her excitement. I got up from the chair and ran my hands over her. I unfastened her bra and her breasts fell free. I left the bra on the floor beside the desk and grazed my fingernails down her spine. She arched her back and purred like a cat.

“
I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth. A rash of goose bumps spread down her arms, and she made a little choking sound in the back of her throat. I felt the nipple harden between my lips and I nibbled and sucked until she shuddered gently. Sucking Claire’s breasts always aroused her. I felt her tangle her fingers in my hair to clutch me to her, and I slid my hand down and rubbed her mound through her panties. She shifted her feet wider apart to give me better access. My fingers slipped possessively inside the elastic waistband and I could feel the damp heat of her excitement. She shuddered – it was like a delicious thrill of anticipation. So I stopped. I grazed my fingers lightly across the flared swollen lips of her pussy and then backed away; left her on edge. I smiled at her cruelly. Then I ordered her onto her hands and knees and told her to crawl under the desk.

“
When she was settled, I sank into the chair and looked down between my knees at her upturned face. ‘Suck me,’ I growled.

“Claire unzipped my jeans and stroked my cock. I was hard. I felt the warmth of her fingers as she began to massage the length of me and I
reached down for a handful of her hair. Her mouth fell open instinctively, as I guided her lips over my cock.

“I glanced quickly up at the clock on the wall then closed my eyes. Claire took me deep into her mouth and started to slowly suck me. She made wet little slurping sounds. She licked and nibbled the swollen head of me and then engulfed my full length so that I felt her lips tight at the base of my shaft. She was holding me against the back of her throat. I held her head in place until I felt her begin to strug
gle and then reluctantly removed my hands. She came up for air, gasping. Her eyes were watering. Her lips were puffy and swollen. She licked along the hard length of me and then wrapped her lips back around the engorged head. I felt her tongue flick and slide, and the sensations were exquisite.

“Then there was a knock at the door.”

Leticia looked up from her notebook in sudden alarm. “Are you serious?”

I smiled. “I am serious,” I said. “I arranged it.”

I stopped pacing and went back to the big desk. I leaned forward with my hands on the leather top.

“Claire gasped with panic. She started to squirm under the desk. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted it savagely. ‘Keep sucking my cock,’ I snapped. Sh
e tried to pull her head away. ‘Are you fucking crazy?’ she raged, and I had to force myself back between her lips and hold her there. ‘Suck my fucking cock!’ I snarled. ‘And don’t dare stop – no matter what happens.’

“The knock on the door sounded again, and then old Oliver the gardener slowly pushed the door open and stood in the doorway.

“‘Young Mr. Noble,’ he said. He was surprised to see me in my father’s office. He stood holding the door handle uncertainly.

“
‘Hello Oliver,’ I said calmly. ‘Is something wrong?’ The old man shook his head, his expression puzzled. ‘Not that I know of,’ he said. ‘But I got a message from your father to meet him here in this very office at exactly 4:45 pm. I don’t know what it’s about.’

“I made a show of frowning thoughtfully. Under the desk I could feel Claire’s body trembling as she eased her mouth up and down my cock with agonizing slowness. ‘That’s strange, Oliver,’ I said. ‘I got a similar message. He asked me to meet him here at the exact same time
’.

“Old Oliver shuffled his feet for a moment. He looked down at the carpet and then
back at me. He shrugged. ‘Well, he must have got himself caught up in something. Can you tell him I was here and that I’ll come back later?’

“I smiled. ‘Of course,’ I said. He started to pull the door closed. I sensed Claire suddenly relax, the tension seep from her body. I heard her stifle a sigh of relief as her mouth slid from my cock and she took me lightly in the palm of her hand.

“‘Hey! Oliver,’ I said suddenly. ‘Why don’t you sit here with me and wait for him. I’m sure my father won’t be long. We could have a chat. I’d like to know how you’re going with the roses’.

“I heard Claire gasp and then suddenly freeze. She made a soft choking sound of sheer panic and I thrust my hips up at her.
Her grip around my cock suddenly tightened in panic. Oliver came into the room, and sat in the chair you are sitting in right now. He’d never been inside my father’s office. His eyes swept around the room and stopped when he saw Claire’s bra on the floor.”

“Oh sweet god!”
Leticia gulped. “You were insane to take that kind of risk.”

I shrugged casually. “It was thrilling,” I said. “That was what made it such a rush. The danger – the possibility that we might get caught.”

“Did you?”

I shook my head. “No. Oliver said nothing. His eyes flicked up to mine
and I could see the question in his eyes. I braced myself. I felt Claire shuddering like a frightened kitten, almost too scared to breathe. Oliver and I sat in silence for a couple of minutes, and the only sound in the room was the old clock. Finally he slapped his hands onto his knees and pushed himself wearily to his feet. He made a mumbled excuse about the lawns and backed out of the room.

“As soon as the door closed, I pushed Claire’s lips all the way down to the base of my shaft and pumped her mouth full of my come. It was one of the most spectacular orgasms I had ever experienced. It left me utterly exhausted. My heart was pounding, and I was dripping with sweat. Claire crawled out from under the desk and
she was so weak and shaken, she couldn’t stand. Her lipstick was smudged across her face and her hair was a tangled mess. She stared down at me, her chest heaving like she had run a marathon. Her hands were shaking and her eyes were wide and reckless.

“For a moment Claire’s expression was ferocious
, and her green eyes flashed. I held her gaze and deliberately challenged her – dared her. She was seething. Every muscle in her body was tensed. I cocked one eyebrow at her in a cynical mocking gesture. Her temper flared for another instant, and then her eyes slowly clouded over and her shoulders slumped. She dressed and left the office without a word.”

Leticia
was watching me intently. Her expression was unfathomable. It could have been contempt. It might have been incredulity, or maybe something far more intriguing. Our eyes met, and then she glanced quickly away and took a deep breath. When she looked back at me again she met my gaze steadily, and I saw something move behind her eyes like a shadow.

“What happened next?” She asked in a whisper.

I stopped pacing. I took a deep breath then let out a heavy sigh of regret. “I never saw her again,” I said. “Claire packed her bags and moved out that same night. I didn’t realize what was happening until I saw the cab in the driveway and Claire standing there beside her suitcase. I watched her from the window. She saw me. Our eyes met for an instant – and then she turned her back, got in the cab, and it drove away into the night.”

“You didn’t try to stop her?”

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“No.”

“And y
ou never saw her again? Ever?”

I shook my head. “In hindsight, it was for the best. Claire
sensed we were on some reckless collision course. We both knew it could only end in disaster. So she did what she needed to do to protect herself and her marriage. She did the right thing. The whole affair with Claire was a burning fuse. We were lucky it didn’t explode in our faces.”

Leticia
sighed. She scribbled a note into her pad and then glanced at me with her head tilted at a curious angle.

“What stops a BDSM scene from getting out of hand?” she asked. “It seems to require a great deal of trust from the submissive.”

“It does,” I agreed, and then shook my head. The question deserved a more complete answer. “Write this down,” I said. “I think it’s important.”

Leticia
flipped over to a new blank page and furrowed her brow. She nodded, pen poised.

“Young men make terrible Masters,” I said suddenly.
“They’re too focused on themselves. They get into the lifestyle because of what they think they will get out of it, not because of what they can share. Does that make sense?”

“No.”

I took a deep breath and paced across the room. When I reached the door I stopped prowling and tried again.

“I’ve never met a man who I considered to be a good Master who wasn’t at least thirty years old. Any
guys younger than that only seem interested in their own sexual pleasure. They get involved in the lifestyle because they think it’s a great way to get themselves off, without the burden of needing to feel any real responsibility towards their partner – their submissive. It’s all about the guy’s pleasure, and in those circumstances, the submissive is more likely to come away from a scene or a relationship feeling used and unsatisfied. Maybe even abused. I believe a true relationship between a Master and his submissive is as much about the emotional balance and interaction as it is about the sexual aspects. A submissive needs to have complete trust in her Master. She needs to know she can give her mind and body to him with absolute confidence that he will treat them as a gift, not a right. Women submissives are just as entitled to feel enriched from a BDSM relationship as their Master. It’s a fusion of energies – a meeting of minds – and bodies. The woman needs to know that her Master will put her safety ahead of his demands, and her welfare ahead of his needs. Young men don’t get that. They focus too much on the physical. They think BDSM is all about sex, so they make no effort to understand the submissive woman’s mind, and how important her trust and her physical and emotional needs are to his pleasure.”