Master of Two: Nascent Love (2 page)

He whispered in my ear and I was slightly
startled, but his warm, low voice was intoxicating. "You want me to
touch your pussy, don’t you, Renee? You want me to reach between
your legs and rub your clit. You want me to fuck you with my
fingers."

"Yes, sir. Please?"

"You’ll have to ask better than that," he
said, twisting a nipple harshly. I couldn’t hold back a small
moan.

"Please, sir, please touch my pussy."

"That’s a bit better." He pressed his lips
to my ear, biting the lobe a little, teasing, his fingers remaining
on my nipples. They were getting a bit sore, but it was a good
sore. Each pinch became a kind of caress, causing a sting of
pleasure to shoot down to my cleft. "One more try, Renee. But if
you don’t get it right the third time, I’ll stop what I’m
doing."

I groaned. "Oh, sir, please touch my pussy.
I want your fingers on my wet flesh. I want to please you."

His laugh was low and genuine. "You want to
please me? By watching you come, I will be pleased? You don’t think
maybe you’ll be somewhat pleased yourself?"

My eyes opened as he withdrew his hand from
my breasts. "I’m sorry, sir. How can I please you?"

He ran his fingers along the side of my face
and rubbed his thumb along my lower lip. "Kiss me. Show me how
excited you are."

I wanted to devour him, to have him devour
me. We kissed gently, at first, but soon with vigorous abandon. He
trailed his lips from my mouth down my throat, to the juncture of
my neck and shoulder. When he bit there, it was a starburst through
my body. That is a primary erogenous zone for me and he found it
right away, not giving it sweet and feathery kisses, but fully
applying his teeth to the muscle there. He didn’t break the skin,
of course, but I thought—fleetingly—that I might have a bruise the
next day. The idea that I’d be "marked" by his attentions for a day
or two was exhilarating. It all added up to one hard peak; it was
an orgasm that rocked me, bringing a sharp moan to my lips, arching
my back.

"Your responsiveness is delightful," he told
me. "But next time, ask permission first. Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yes, sir," I stammered on a whisper, my
body floating back from its internal high. He surprised me by
gently pushing my thighs apart and pressing his palm against my
pussy, holding it there, unmoving. I suppose he could feel the
little twitches that were the aftermath of a potent climax, but for
whatever reason, he didn’t do more than cup.

"Do you want me to claim this for my own?"
he said, his voice a soft rumble in my left ear.

"Oh God…"

"God is not here, sweetheart. It’s only you
and me."

"I want to please you so much."

"You do please me. I want to continue."

"Whatever I have, you can have it." It was a
surrender of self. We hadn’t solidified the deal in any formal way,
but my surrender was a step upon that journey.

"I want this pussy right now. I’m going to
take it from you."

I moaned, raising my hips to press my mound
against his hand. His fingers petted the small patch of red hair at
the top of my slit, and trailed down along the lips. Two fingers
spread me open a little, and my eyes closed again. I knew there was
a pool of wetness that showed my wild excitement.

His breath was warm in my ear as he brought
his hand to my lips. "Taste."

I opened my mouth slightly, and he inserted
two fingers. I licked. My cum tasted savory and creamy. He withdrew
his fingers—slowly—and I licked my lips.

"Pretty mouth," he told me, and how could I
help but be pleased by the compliment. I smiled.

He set his hand right back to my pussy, this
time a bit more aggressively, exploring, dipping into the cream and
spreading it up toward my excited clit. I thought I might die if he
didn’t touch it. It was on my tongue to beg him to do it, when he
did. At first it was a gentle rub, but it became somewhat more
vigorous, and another orgasm threatened.

"Please! Oh God, oh sir! May I, may I
come?"

"Yes. It’s mine. I want it now."

He pinched and I arched my butt off his lap
and cried out with pain as I came hard, seeing stars of pleasure
while my body shuddered with both agony and ecstasy.

I can’t go on here. I need my vibrator. More
tomorrow.

Renee sat quietly, moisture pooling on her
panties. Reading about those first experiences brought back so many
exquisite memories and feelings. Their relationship had matured and
been enriched by the ensuing five years, but each highlight was a
bright star in the night-colored fabric of their life together.

Her body was anxious for release, but a
vibrator was out of the question. She didn't even own one. He'd be
home soon. She'd just have to be good.

* * *

Every muscle, every brain cell, called for
quiet, for calm and for a decent night’s sleep. Although he
traveled extensively—his speeches and counsel in demand—he hated
being away from home. The week of whirlwind travel, Los Angeles to
Paris to Madrid and capped off with a seventeen-hour flight from
Madrid back to Los Angeles, was exhausting. He simply wanted to
have a glass of bourbon, have a soak in the Jacuzzi, enjoy the
ministrations of his girl, and sleep until noon the following
day.

It was with this outlook that Kev unlocked
the front door of his home and rolled his luggage in with a sigh.
He heard Renee scurrying from the sitting room and smiled at the
sound.

"Master!" She ran into the foyer and dropped
to her knees, bowing her head to kiss his travel-dusty boots.

He gazed down at her tousled hair and
smiled. It was good to be home.

"Hello, pet. Come give me a kiss."

She rose, beaming with delight at his
return, and threw her arms around his shoulders, planting a searing
kiss on his lips. Her mouth was warm and familiar, the taste of her
light and sweet. "Welcome home, Master," she whispered in his ear
as they broke.

"Thank you." He pushed hair out of his face
with a sigh. "Take my briefcase, Renee. This bag is too heavy for
you."

"Yes, Master."

He watched her hurry away upstairs to his
office, his briefcase held against her chest like a prize. Wearily,
he hauled his bag up the stairs and dropped it in his big bedroom.
It took him a few moments to riffle through a pocket in the bag and
pull out the little black velvet box he'd secured there while in
Madrid. He pried it open and smiled at the glittering bracelet
nestled on black satin. Embedded in the platinum were five
marquis-cut emeralds, one for each year Renee had been with him. He
put the box in his pocket before crossing the hall to his home
office.

Renee was kneeling near his desk,
anticipating him. She was a good girl.

Kev emptied his pockets on his desk: data
key, change, wallet, airline ticket stubs, handkerchief, and a few
business cards, the black velvet box. He shrugged out of his jacket
and tossed it to Renee, who folded it neatly. "A little bourbon,
Master?"

She knew him so well! "Yes, pet. Three
fingers."

Nodding, she put the jacket aside and went
to the bar in the corner of the room and poured him his drink as he
sat down in his desk chair. Kev rested his head in his hands for a
moment, rubbing his face, then took the glass from his red-haired
servant. "Thank you."

He watched her kneel beside the desk, and
enjoyed the sensation of tension slowly leaving his shoulders.
Reaching for the black velvet box, he smiled at his girl. "Our
anniversary is tomorrow, hm?"

She nodded, eyes downcast as she'd been
taught.

"Look at me." The box was smooth in his
hands. He offered it to her. "I didn't forget."

"You never forget, Master." Her smile was
genuine and warm.

Tenderness spread through him and he wanted
to see her eyes light up. "Take it."

Gracefully, she drew the box from his hands,
touching it carefully, anticipation making her smile even
brighter.

"Go ahead and open it."

She levered the black velvet open and peered
inside. "Oh! Oh, Master!" She reached in and withdrew the emerald
bracelet, holding it reverently along her palm. "It's so beautiful!
Thank you!"

He didn't even try to mute his own smile. He
loved that look on her face: genuine delight with no avarice or
greed, only unaffected pleasure. "Put it on, why don't you?'

She shot him a glance, bobbing a little on
her knees, put the box down and fastened the bracelet on carefully.
Extending her arm out toward him, she turned her wrist this way and
that, making small sounds of joy as she watched the light glint off
the stones.

"It's wonderful on you, pet."

"You're so generous, Master."

He waved away her compliment. The bracelet
had been expensive, but it was barely representative of the
affection he had for her. He wouldn't let himself love her—it was
an emotion that clouded judgment and brought pain—but she was his
and that pleased him tremendously. Kev cupped her smooth cheek and
she turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. Lingering a
moment, deep pleasure washed over him.

You can fire up the Jacuzzi. I feel like
two-day-old socks."

She smiled. "Yes, Master." Taking the folded
jacket, she left the room to do his bidding.

Not long after, Kev went to the master
bedroom, and changed into his soft bathrobe. Without being told,
Renee followed protocol and removed her own clothes, and knelt,
waiting, on the pallet at the foot of his big bed. The bracelet
shimmered on her wrist as she rested it on her thigh.

Kev loved the simplicity of his bedroom, the
black comforter with red embroidery; the high, black leather
headboard and black lacquer tables; the brass-accented lamps, tall
armoire and chests of drawers. A red rug with black geometric
design covered most of the wood floor. It was a rich room, calming
and orderly. Even Renee’s tatami mat and its little sleeping pallet
was tidy there at the foot of his bed. She had her own room, but on
nights when he might want her service, she was allowed to sleep in
his room. This always seemed to please her, even though her bed
must be rather hard down there on the floor.

"Jacuzzi time," he told her, and she
followed behind as he wound his way through the hall, down the
stairs, and out the French doors into his lush backyard. The pool
was lit, blue and pacific, with a rock waterfall tinkling sweetly
at one end and flora all around. His Jacuzzi was steaming in the
cool, Los Angelean winter air, and he slipped off his robe and sank
into the bubbling water with a sigh. Renee followed quietly. After
giving him a few minutes to acclimate himself, Renee took up a
loofah and began scrubbing him, foot to shoulders. She knew how he
liked to be attended to and did it, quiet and smiling
cheerfully.

He moved around to accommodate this washing
as he sipped his bourbon and gazed at the stars overhead. Kev tried
not to think about business, meditatively considering more pleasant
things as Renee put down the loofah and began to massage his tired
muscles. It was a good life, and though it would be greedy to ask
for more, he’d found something else he might like to own while on
this last trip. His fortieth birthday was approaching, and that
called for a little present to himself.

His friend Tighe Bonchamps had let it be
known that there was a special girl whose contract was about to be
put up for auction by a mutual acquaintance of theirs. Tighe
thought it possible that Kev could forestall the auction by making
a suitable offer to the girl before the event. Several women—all
willing participants—would be available, but there was only one
whom Tighe considered worthy of further attention. He sent a photo,
a single .jpg of the woman in question, and it piqued Kev’s
interest. He made it a point to start the European trip in Paris,
so he could talk to Tighe, meet the woman, and talk to her current
master about her behavior and experience.

As it turned out, the girl was sweet and
even more attractive than her photo suggested. She was Asian, with
long, black hair that brushed her round bottom; small, high conical
breasts; a hairless pussy; and, perhaps most intriguing of all,
eyes as black as kohl but sparkling with mischief. She was an
exquisite jewel, and would be the perfect match for his red-haired,
blue-eyed, lithe, and beautiful Renee. Both women were bisexual, so
there would be plenty of opportunities for Kev to enjoy them both
at the same time without issues. The Asian girl, Amiko, was also a
masochist like Renee, so his tendency toward sexual sadism would be
accepted, even encouraged. They had to be pushed slightly beyond
their previous experience, of course. It wouldn’t be much of a
submission if they enjoyed every minute.

He met the woman briefly. She was
intelligent, her English perfect, and able to speak several other
languages thanks to her Sorbonne education in language arts. Kev
saw her naked, watched her give head to her current master, and
observed her reactions to some vigorous nipple torture. She was
well-trained. He was not allowed to touch, of course, but he did
come home with a series of exceptional pictures on his data key.
Her contract price would be high, but he could afford it, and
negotiating with her would be amusing. It couldn't be all about
money; she was no prostitute. Proceeds would go into a trust fund
for her, or there would be no deal. The auction wasn’t to be held
until the following week, so he had some time to think it over.

He’d had other offers before, generally of
unsavory character. He was no human trafficker, and would only
consider women who were over eighteen, clearly willing, and ready
to make a change. He didn’t need any weeping virgins trying to
escape his "evil clutches." He expected them to serve, not because
they were coerced, but because they wanted to serve.