Tested by Her Web Master (Web Master #2) (10 page)

Round 2 heats up and doubles the value of red and as you visit each station, each red card you get you will double the amount of fucking revealed by the card. However, with a black card you will keep the amount of strokes and stings supplied by the number selected.

IE: You've selected the 7 of hearts. You now get to fuck that hole with 14 strokes. Or you've selected the 7 of spades it will be 7 stings, 7 fuck strokes.

Round 3 you will triple the number with red, however black stays the same.

Round 4 you will multiply by 4 if it's red and black remains the same.

Round 5 multiply by 5 for red, black stays the same.

TO START:

The cards should be distributed first facedown at all three locations.

Once you are all dressed and helpless, you will first get to your knees, take that cock deep inside from behind and fuck that cunt with 50 strokes. You can find your own rhythm and fuck it anyway you like while you repeat this mantra aloud: "I'm a bondage bitch and I need my training."

Once that fuck hole is aching and wet, you are off on your adventure.

When you take your stings during the game, you will say out loud with each sting, "Thank you, Sir."

After your play session, you deserve to come. You will fuck that cunt doggy style hard, deep and long for a nice prolonged orgasm.

Any questions?

I want all the details about your play.

BA

My first reaction was that this task seemed to require more math than I wanted with my sexy time, but the teacher in me appreciated an opportunity to use math skills in a “grown up” context.

The task struck me as very creative and I wondered if MC had anything to do with inventing it. Overall, it seemed a little nerdy for MC, but I could feel some of his influence in it.

Since the task was rather left-brained, almost robotic, I poured myself a glass of wine and turned on some music to get myself in the mood. As soon as I switched on my phone, the score from
Winged
filled the room. My finger flew to switch tracks. It felt like a betrayal—listening to Quentin’s music while preparing to defile myself for another man’s pleasure.

I quickly found a completely different playlist and tried to put Quentin out of my head as I took a big swig from my glass.

When I was properly lubricated from drink, I went to my bedroom and knelt down next to my self-fucking contraption. Then I leaned back and impaled myself on the glass cock, all the while imagining what it would feel like to have BA inside me.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ever since the night I was so worried about Shelby, things between BA and myself had been building and building. It had gotten to the point to where it felt like things needed to culminate in a phone session. For privacy purposes, it had always been my policy not to do sessions on camera. MC had tried to persuade me on several occasions, but I wouldn’t risk the video getting into the wrong hands and the scandal that was sure to follow ending my teaching career so I’d always used the blanket “no” answer when it came to cameras. I wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but it also took care of any modesty issues I had since I never had to display my naked body where strangers could see it. If I’d been an exhibitionist I might have been tempted to alter my policy, but since I wasn’t I remained steadfast.

BA had requested a phone session for the following week. He said he’d send me a list of props and toys to have on hand. I was an old pro at doing these sessions with MC and I didn’t expect this one with BA to deviate too much from those. There would be self-spanking, masturbating on command, etcetera. It would be fun, but nothing I couldn’t handle from a physical standpoint.

It was the emotional aspect that had me intrigued and slightly nervous.

This would be my first time actually talking with BA. I hadn’t heard his voice yet. His personality came through in the communications we’d already shared, but I felt like talking to him would deepen the connection between us.

During a recent phone conversation with Quentin, I’d mentioned that BA and I were planning a phone session. I thought he might express displeasure, but he simply said, “Let me know how it goes.”

I guess eventually I would get used to his laissez-faire attitude about my training with BA, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand it. I certainly could never be so casual if he decided to take on another submissive. I’d be hella jeaolus. I’d probably stalk the poor woman and obsess about her every day.

Maybe one of the reasons Quentin didn’t do that was because he was mentoring BA. He must believe everything is on the up and up and trust that if anything were to happen between us that threatened him, he would know about it. On the whole, my Master was very French about the whole thing. It’s a rather sophisticated concept that a person could have their sexual needs met by someone other than their partner and yet their relationship would remain stable.

There weren’t a lot of tasks that week coming from either BA or MC, so I started a new Netflix show, which kept me busy in the evenings. But I was looking forward to the phone session at the end of the week with BA. I couldn’t help it—I’d grown addicted to my kinky extracurricular activities. I wasn’t sure if it was the attention or the actual orgasms that had me so hooked. Either way, I needed a night of being submissive to a hard-tasking Dom, and I was thrilled I was about to get it.

Finally the date popped up on my calendar. I’m embarrassed to say that I had an extra bounce of energy all day long at school. Obnoxious booger-eaters, soiled underwear, and entitled parents couldn’t do anything to dampen/hamper my mood. All the stresses of the day melted away when I came through my front door that night. After a quick walk with Felix, I sat down to see if BA had sent me any messages.

He had.

But to my dismay it said:

Sophie,

I’m sorry to have to tell you that something’s come up. Won’t be able to attend our scheduled phone session tonight. Will try to make it up soon. Will be in touch.

BA

WTF? What could have possibly come up on a Friday night that was so important that he had to leave me high and dry? Or in this case wet... But what sort of asshole gets a girl worked up all week at the prospect of upping the intensity of his domination and her submission, only to leave her lonely on a Friday night?

It was like getting stood up for a date in a restaurant. Only more private, and with sex rather than food at the center of the interaction. Damn him.

I almost typed back, “FUCK YOU!” but I refrained, telling myself I needed a twenty-four hour waiting period before sending that. But if I still felt like it in twenty-four hours, I was going to press “send.” He deserved it after all.

Instead I picked up my phone and texted Quentin.

Your bratty apprentice Dom stood me up.
I added a red hot-faced looking emoji to indicate my ire over the slight.

I waited, but soon realized I wasn’t going to get a rapid response. Tapping my fingers on the table didn’t help. Finally, I decided to give up on men and turned back on Netflix. I also sent Shelby a text saying that men were pigs. She responded right away with wholehearted agreement, though she said she was with boyfriend so I didn’t exactly believe her. I did, however, appreciate the solidarity.

Throwing all healthiness aside, I ordered a pizza. As I consumed it I decided to counteract the damage it might do to my health by imbibing on some red wine. After a couple of glasses and a full belly, I started to feel better.

Around ten o’clock, Quentin finally texted me back.

Sorry, I’ve been in meetings. And sorry he had to cancel on you. That sucks.

That made sense. He was on the west coast and finishing up one of the biggest projects of his career.

That’s okay.
Sad face emoji.

The more I drank, the more I turned to emojis to communicate for me.

How would you like me to pinch hit?

Meaning?

I’ll run you through a phone session in a few minutes if you want.

Really?

Yes. It will be on the fly, so not my usual well-planned session, but if that ’lil cunt wants to come, I can help abuse you.

I’m intrigued.
My skin already felt flushed by the wine, but his words made me even warmer.

What time?

Midnight your time. I’ll text you a list of things to have ready and don’t fucking be late, bitch.

Yes, Sir.

My heart rate increased and my night was saved. I meant something to Quentin. He would dominate me. It seemed strange that in the recent past, I’d come to question whether he was truly there for me. Clearly, this was an example of a time when he was there for me. He cared about me. I shouldn’t have doubted him.

And what had I even doubted him for? In favor of some guy I didn’t even know. A guy who kept showing me how immature he could be, and now I couldn’t count on him to do what he said he was going to do. I didn’t need to be setting any emotional stakes on a guy who’d let me down like this.

When I’d been upset about Shelby’s accident and needed someone to talk with, it wasn’t Quentin’s fault that he hadn’t gotten the message until later. He’d been working and his phone was dead. Surely I could forgive him for that.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I shouldn’t have been caught off guard when Quentin told me he wanted to come visit me for the holidays, but I was.

We hadn’t talked much about his family, but I guess that was because he didn’t have much of one. He had been raised by a single mother, who had been forty when he was born. Unfortunately, she’d succumbed to cancer a few years ago. He had an elderly aunt who’d moved to Florida a few years ago, and I got the impression he usually spent the holidays with her. But this year she was going on a cruise with some of her friends so that wasn’t going to be an option.

Until now, Quentin and I both preferred me to visit him in Seattle when we got together. For me it served as a welcome escape from my fairly boring life, and he said it was better for him because he was closer to the studio when inspiration hit. But during the half dozen or so times I’d visited him, I’d never known him to have an inspiration that couldn’t wait until I left. Sometimes he’d take notes for his compositions, but he never went to the studio while I was there. My suspicion was that he simply liked being in his own comfort zone.

Which was why I thought it a bit odd that he wanted to come to mine. He could have booked a ski vacation for us or asked if I wanted to go to Maui if it was only about having my company for Christmas. Instead, he wanted to meet my family.

In light of the fact that Quentin didn’t have much family, I felt incredibly bratty to be wishing I could spend the holidays with only him, and away from mine.

But my parents would be upset and lonely if I flew the coop over Christmas, so I was doomed to spend it just the four of us. I loved my parents, but my mother could be, well, a bit much and since I was an only child, I got the brunt of her.

I picked Quentin up at the airport on a Friday. Christmas wasn’t until the following Wednesday so we had plenty of time to hang around and have some fun. I parked and went in to get him.

As I watched all the people getting off the plane, I tried to remain calm, but my palms were sweating and I could hardly contain my excitement. Hoards of people passed by, groups, individuals, but no Quentin. Finally, one of the last passengers to come down the gateway, there he was.

Every time I saw the man it struck me how good-looking he was. Wearing a jacket and tie, he looked like a model for Hugo Boss. Only more raw. There was always something so primal, so sexual about the way he moved that made me swoon. And I could tell by the reaction of the other women within twenty yards of us that I wasn’t the only one. They noticed him. Some of them smiled shyly at him, some more brazenly, but I was the proudest girl in all of Texas because he didn’t seem to see any of them. His attention was focused solely on me.

Quentin asked if he could drive and I happily handed him the keys to my BMW. I’d never cared much for driving or cars for that matter, so I was still driving the one my father had given me on my sixteenth birthday. We loaded up the car with his bag, and he took me in his arms and kissed me hard.

I kissed him back, the butterflies in my stomach dancing the cha-cha. As his hands began to roam over my body, I remembered the times when he’d bent me over his car at the Seattle airport and fucked me silly. I glanced around furtively. Fort Worth was different. This was my hometown. I couldn’t afford for anyone I knew to catch us doing anything like that out in public.