MASTERED: (The Novel) (6 page)

With a heavy sigh, she gave up the computation.
It was well beyond her capability at this juncture, in any case. Blushing
crimson, she squatted resignedly on the toilet. There was no need to pull her
panties down. She was unencumbered of them hours ago.

Trying to imagine that she was somewhere else,
anywhere
else
, was impossible. His eyes bored
into hers, effectively rendering all bodily functions nonoperational.
Compounding her angst, if such were possible; he moved to stand directly before
her.

Still holding her hand, James opened her
tightly-squeezed knees as far as they would go. And then, a smidgen further. He
proceeded to crouch lithely between them!

Dreading her bladder bursting, Missy’s eyes
darted staccato. She was desperate to look anywhere; anywhere but at James.
When he gently grasped her chin, she had no option. Eyeball to eyeball it was.

The glowing pride that shone from his eyes
caught her unawares. It embraced, warmed, and calmed her. A moment ago the
notion of glancing at him tortured her. Now, she couldn't bear to look away.

When he began to hum gently, the dam broke. Her
bladder loosed, splashing forcefully into the toilet. Missy whimpered for the
duration. Yet, if she was honest, she would admit that what she desired most
was for James to kiss her!

Whore!

 
Disturbed
by the insight, she managed to break eye contact at last. As she busily
searched out the toilet paper dispenser, his next words caused the muscles in
her belly to contract spasmodically. “You may wipe today, my dear. In future, I
suggest you not assume it to be your right.” Her hands shook visibly as she
performed the intimate task under his close scrutiny.

 
When she
rose to flush, James pressed her clammy hand to his swollen crotch, wordlessly
conveying the moving effect she had on him. Was that pride she was feeling
along with, for the first time, his imposing manhood?

Mercifully, there was little time to explore and
categorize her scattered emotions. The taxi honked its impatient arrival. James
unbolted the heavy door which he'd locked behind them only hours before. To
Missy, it represented a lifetime.

She experienced an overwhelming sense of
deja
vu. If she hadn't believed in previous lives, she did
now. Fervently, she wished to spend any and all future lives locked behind this
very door, with this very man.

Master…

James supported most of her weight as they made
their way slowly out to the cab. Once arrived, he bent her backwards nearly in
half across the hood and in direct view of the driver. With one leg pushed
brazenly between hers, he leaned his entire weight into her. He kissed her
already-opening mouth, crushing her lips with the intensity of his feelings.

Missy kissed him back. Not just with eager lips,
but with the whole of her being. Contently pinned, his manhood pulsed hotly
against her all but naked crotch. The eerie sense of
deja
vu persisted. Everything other than his distinctly familiar presence fell away
as meaningless.

When the kiss ended, Missy struggled for oxygen
and some modicum of composure. James calmly helped her up. He handed her into
the backseat of the cab as if she were the most regal of royalty. “You have a
decision to make, my dear,” he breathed into her ear before firmly shutting the
door.

Shivering, she heard him
instruct the driver to take good care of his precious cargo, and to keep the
change. He proffered a bill large enough to deliver her into the next state.
The car began to make its way down the long driveway.

Missy was tossed back
against the seat cushions, numb with physical and mental exhaustion. She
couldn't begin to process the astounding events of this day. A day that began
as mundanely as any other, and yet ended the furthest thing from!

I have a decision to make.

Missy couldn't help but giggle under her breath.
She felt a little like Scarlett O'Hara, the southern belle from
Gone
With
the
Wind
.
Like Scarlett, she too was overwhelmed by the twists and turns of
fate. Like Scarlett, she too would think about it tomorrow.

After all, tomorrow is another day...

Chapter
17

Missy
had a decision to make...

Just beyond the tinted windows of
the taxicab, the night lights of the city hurtled past unseen. Missy's
immediate dilemma was to achieve a moderately tolerable seated position. A
position she could sustain for the estimated twenty minute journey home.

It might as well be forever. The
cracked faux-leather of the seat cushions stuck cruelly against the
inflammation of her freshly-paddled and very bare bottom. Any attempt at
movement proved equally difficult and
agonizing.
Additionally, she was acutely aware of every microscopic crack in the road.
With each, her unrestrained breasts pitched ludicrously hither and yon. They
wobbled and jiggled unaccustomedly under the thin silk top.

 
At
last, Missy managed to achieve a bearable seated position. Balanced on the edge
of one fevered butt-cheek, she crossed her arms to contain and conceal her
unruly breasts. In her diminished mental capacity, she was convinced that her
thick, fevered nipples were about to burn clean through the flimsy material.

 
Missy's eyes widened in distress when she accidentally brushed the
mauled nipple of her left breast.
Cursed with over-sensitive nipples at
the best of times, she barely managed to subdue the shriek of that rose in her
throat. Already familiar bolts of torturous sensation coursed through her body
in two opposing directions; between her legs
and
between her ears. Recalling how nonchalantly James had
reached for that distended nubbin left her breathless, chest heaving. Missy moaned
with the intensity of the memory.

 
His
hand moved in what seemed like slow-motion until it attained its singular
objective. Once secured within his grasp, James twisted, teased, and tortured
that engorged teat at will and without respite. Squeals were downgraded to
whimpers in her constrained throat. Yet, all the while, a courteous, almost
bored smile lifted the edges of his exasperatingly distracting lips!

 
Appalled,
Missy realized she was midway through yet another very audible moan. Choking it
back, she peeked up from beneath smudged lashes to find the cab driver smirking
lewdly back. He didn't bother to disguise his drooling enjoyment as he leered
at her bouncing breasts in the rear-view mirror. Missy became immediately aware
of her state of disarray, specifically; her lack of undergarments. She managed
to maneuver herself to the furthest corner of the back seat.

 
Not
without sacrificing what little was left of her modesty, however. Her progress
was accompanied by the distinctive sucking sound of naked ass cheeks as they
alternately stuck to, and then released from the leatherette seats. Missy bit
back a yelp of pain and
humiliation
.
Once ensconced in the darkest
corner, she melted into the shadows where, hopefully, prying eyes couldn't
penetrate. She was grateful for the exceedingly large bill that James gave the
driver to deliver her home safely.
And with any luck;
unaccosted
as well.

 
The
cabbie's lecherous eyes in the rear view mirror brought with them a harsh
reminder of the
real
world. Somehow,
she had managed to completely disregard its existence for the bulk of this
extraordinary day.
But really, who
could blame her?

 
Missy's
cheeks flamed brightly enough to glow in the dark. She imagined the condemning
eyes of 'Polite Society
'
were
they present that evening. She easily envisioned their horror as the slotted
spatula was mindfully chosen as the instrument of her chastisement!

Yes, Missy herself was
responsible for its selection as the perfect apparatus to be applied forcefully
against the tender flesh her own bared bottom. She further compounded her
societal sins by deferentially offering this odious tool to James for his
approval.

Without a doubt, however, the
final 'civilized' thread was severed as she strained to raise her whore hips as
high off the ironing board as possible. High enough to afford James an easier,
more attainable target!

Whore!

Missy perceived society's
judgmental eyes as they narrowed to mere slits. She was sensitive to the
multitude of possible repercussions, none of them attractive. Missy
scrupulously avoided inviting the attention of that unforgiving entity since
becoming aware of its narrow-minded existence as a teenager
.
What two consenting adults
did behind closed doors should be nobody's business but their own!

 
These
scandalous concepts were most assuredly disturbing. Yet, more distressing was
the sticky wetness leaking incessantly from between her tremulous legs. It occurred
the moment her mind touched upon the multitude of 'sinful' exploits in which
she so eagerly participated. And recall them she did!

 
In
her mind's eye, Missy observed herself being lewdly 'arranged' atop the
conveniently angled board. She watched closely as James meticulously positioned
her breasts to dangle indecently from each side. She could see her arms and
legs wrap tightly around it in order to avoid tumbling off. Her one mission was
to not incur his displeasure. That singular focus was nothing short of
liberating.

Bound to that board, yet wholly
emancipated!

I have a decision to make?
Missy trembled from head to toe, her
lack of apparel nary to blame. The culprit was her obvious lack of choice. Any
'decision' was made the moment she discovered the truth illuminated in James's
riveting eyes.

Her deepest secret was found out,
and like Pandora's opened box, there was no going back. Missy knew precisely
where she belonged - a
nd to whom.

Master…

Chapter 18

With
those jarring realizations, the fatigue that was nagging overtook her
completely. Turning as best she could to stare blindly out the window, her
weary mind drifted to Christopher. She shed silent tears as she thought of her
son and the tight bond they shared. It had always been the two of them against,
well - everything. His happiness and well-being had been her entire world.

Just three
weeks ago they received the long-anticipated acceptance letter to Christopher’s
first college of choice.
Was it simply a
coincidence?
Or, could it be what's often referred to as 'destiny'; a
concept Missy now felt merited much closer scrutiny.

While
her jubilant son never suspected it, her natural maternal pride in his
achievements had been fleetingly tempered. An overwhelming sense of impending
loneliness gripped her. The prospect of a prolonged separation saddened her
deeply. She missed him already, and he hadn't yet left.

Missy
slumped in numb exhaustion, emotions too close to the surface to allocate. The
cab barely slowed for the stop sign at the top of her street before beginning
its descent. Pointing out the tiny, dimly lit house, she had the door opened
and slammed shut before any further eye contact could ensue.

She
felt the cabbie's eyes undressing her as she self-consciously and unsteadily
made her way up the driveway. She could hardly blame the poor man, overexposed
as she was
.
The crisp air of
the very early morning caused
goosebumps
to rise on
her hyper-sensitive flesh.

Unlocking
the door silently so as not to awaken Christopher; she freed one cramped foot
at a time from her pumps. Lingering momentarily to breathe in the soothing
familiarity of her surroundings, Missy balked. For the second time, a
disturbing premonition of not belonging seized her. Literally turning her back
on this unnerving clairvoyance, she whirled to find a hastily scribbled note on
the kitchen counter. Picking it up, a slow smile spread across her weary countenance.

Her son
had thought to leave her a message before retiring for the night. It read
simply, “Hope you had a great time mom.
Luv you.”
How
she adored this sweet boy who was so quickly growing into a fine and
compassionate man. Christopher mistakenly believed himself to be the cause of
her isolated existence. He regularly, and only half-jokingly, lectured her
regarding the fact that she wasn't getting any younger. Missy sighed.

She was
well aware.

God,
I'm going to miss him!
True, Missy hoped that a local college
might have met his needs, but Christopher was intent on carving his own path.
She couldn't be prouder if he’d flown to the moon without wings! Clutching the
note against her heart, she stumbled down the hall to her bedroom.

Collapsing
onto the bed with a groan of appreciation, she hadn't enough energy to remove her
few remaining articles of tattered clothing. Her final conscious thought would
have deeply concerned her; were she not been hovering on the sweet threshold of
nothingness.