Read an Excerpt
Later, I spotted a strikingly beautiful, blonde submissive. Kneeling alone beside a corner table opposite me, she had her legs spread wide apart. Ball-gagged, and wearing a latex bra with her prominent nipples exposed, she wore nothing else. What fascinated me about her was how she periodically masturbated herself in front of the entire lounge. She would frig her gash, as calmly as another woman might adjust her skirt, or apply lipstick. Each time her fingers dove into her slit, her eyes searched the room almost frantically, for her missing Master.
Her absent Master had likely ordered her to keep herself wet, ready for him, when he returned. The chair she knelt beside was ajar from the table, and a glass of ale had been left half empty upon it. Assuming her Master had left her suddenly, perhaps to go see a friend, I saw she seemed quite frantic for his return.
Approached by one of the black leather beginners, who no doubt hoped to score with this helpless slave girl, she ignored him completely, going so far as to lean forward placing her head on the floor until he went away. Clearly loyalty to her Master, her devotion thrilled me. Hopefully, one day I would display such slavish love.
In all honesty, my first thought about her were not about her Master. Feeling powerful, raw envy of her, I mentally saw myself kneeling there, with my wet pussy ready for my Master to use upon his return. Fantasies blossomed in my mind, about what she must be thinking and feeling. How did it feel to frig your open cunt in front of a roomful of people in obedience your Master?
Finally, I came to know I must meet this Master, who commanded such sacrifice and slavish love from thisbeautiful woman. Unless he turned out to be a real toad, which I knew he just couldn't be, I would ask him to train me. Gripped by Carpe Diem, I lifted my glass and walked swiftly over to the table, sitting down opposite the ale mug to wait.
Looking me over, her eyes wide, she seemed to be excited by my presence. Did she sense I would be no threat to her? It seemed so, as she continued her behavior. Looking right at me, she fingered herself, as if she were putting on a live sex show for my amusement alone. A fierce desire to speak to her, touch her, welled up inside me, but I knew better. It might upset her Master; I did not want to be responsible for getting her punished. Sipping at my Chablis, I waited for quite a while, but felt totally unable to take my eyes off the blonde, whose arousal rose, then waned, with the steady cycle of masturbation she imposed on herself.
Her Master came up from behind me.
"Gail, have you found a new friend? I hope you behaved yourself in front of company."
He passed by me, as if I were not there, on his way to her. He reached down to feel her wet hole. After ascertaining his orders had been obeyed, he sat down across from me. In his presence, silence was all I could muster as I waited for him to speak. His first words would be so telling. Would he make me wet with his voice?
"Keefe Murdoch, my submissive is called Gail. She is currently in service to me as a live-in slave. Who might you be? Do you have reason to be at my table?"
The self-assured voice of someone used to being instantly obeyed. Yes, it did make me wet, but I wanted to know more before I played my cards.
"Gail behaved very well indeed, obeying what I assume were your orders on a regular basis. She is such a well-trained submissive, I simply had to meet her Master."
Gail nodded her head emphatically at him confirming my statement, but he did not see his slave's nod, as he slowly undressed me with his eyes. A feeling crawled over me, telling me he would evaluate my body for service, before he even knew my purpose. Leaning back and sipping his ale, he continued his silent summing up.
The instant I laid eyes on him, he had passed all my attractiveness standards. His rugged face, framed with curly brown hair, set against bright, blue eyes was truly inviting. A jutting jaw and trim beard added to his look, enhanced by the simple fact he was not clad in fetish wear. A dark blue knit sweater, tight black pants with a worn gray sports coat made him look genuine, standing out markedly from the herd in leather and latex.
Live-in, I thought, wondering if I should shake his hand and run now. If he were deep into a solid live-in relationship with Gail, my desires might be of no interest to him. To cover up my true interest in him, I decided to feign interest in Gail.
"I'm Jen, for now. Have you been training female submissives long?" The answer would not be important, only the idea of me being a female dominant which the question should plant in his head.
Smiling at me, he seemed well aware I intended to be difficult. By not revealing my purpose, I had started a chess game of sorts. It would play out; move and countermove, until I left, or he revealed my true intentions. Wondering how long I might last against him, I listened while he made his first move.
"Do you have a regular play partner in the club, Jen?" Not even bothering to answer my question told me he knew it to be a ruse.
Now if I said a name, Ned for example, to answer his question, he would likely know the person and be able to peg me, as top or sub, by my answer. Clearly fishing for the source of my interest, he would not get it out of me so easily.
"No, I am currently without a partner. Do you allow others to play with Gail?" To remain a mystery to him, I must keep alive the possibility of being a dominant female. Countermove, his play.
Regarding me for a moment, his eyes still made me feel naked in front of him.
"Occasionally, but I always know with whom I allow her to play. Gail's training must not be spoiled by fools. Can you tell me some slaves you have trained?" A devilish smile crossed his face, for he knew he had me.
With nothing to say to this, as I had not trained any submissives, I opened my mouth and words came out. Finding myself speaking, but not understanding, I knew my subterfuge to be ended.
"Gail is so very beautiful, along with being well trained. I do admire men who know how to handle their women. My girlfriends are just forever telling me how they wish their men were mo..."
The chess game over, Keefe Murdoch had declared himself the winner, and I could not doubt it. Not a man to be led on, or trifled with, Keefe Murdoch would now teach me a lesson, in no uncertain terms.
Slamming down hard on the table, his fist made Gail jump in response. Having my full attention, he leaned in, invading personal space like he owned it, while giving me a hard stare. His blue eyes never blinked, but I buckled, quickly dropping my head, and placing my hands at my side.
When he spoke next, he extruded a quiet confidence, knowing he had complete control. "Enough of your prattle. You are looking for a Master who will train you well, and use you hard. This can be arranged. Perhaps someday you may be as well trained as Gail is. Your next move is critical, for you must do exactly as I say if you truly desire this dream." Knowing he had my attention, he leaned back in his chair, his hands beginning to pet Gail.
Gail knelt there as he ran his fingers through her golden tresses; much like you would an obedient dog. Moving to her mouth, he removed her ball gag, sticking his fingers inside her mouth. Without hesitation, she licked them as the obedient dog would certainly do. Grabbing hold of one of her rosy nipples, he pulled it toward himself with such force he made her cleave to him. She uttered not a sound, yet I knew it must hurt her terribly.
"Do you want me to feel your body this way? Are you wet, desperately hoping I will do to you what I do to Gail?"
Soaking wet, I felt sure my silk panties would show it. With nothing left to me than to reveal the truth of my nature, I spoke quietly. "Yes, I am. I need to feel these things, to be your slave." Laid out now, I bared my desires to him. Clothes still clung to my body, but he had seen inside, and correctly guessed my overpowering craving. The moment of truth had come, I could feel it.
"If your submission is true, you must stand up now, remove all your clothing, drop to your knees, and beg me to inspect your body for potential service. However, if you are but a spoiled dilettante, playing around with BDSM, then you will get up, apologize to me for wasting my time, and go to the bar. Tell Sadie, the bartender, that Keefe sent you to see what you deserve. I grant you thirty seconds to decide, but you should already know your path." After he finished, he remained still, eyes boring into my soul, a face of stone forcing a decision from me.
To play the cards I came with was all he left to me, for what else did a slave deserve. There would be no reprieve, no rescue, he would not laugh, and say it was all a joke. No, I would be his slave, or a pretender.
Inside the maelstrom which occupied my thoughts, I knew two things. One: I wanted to be just like Gail. Second: I had no desire to find out from Sadie what I might deserve.
Standing on shaky legs, my fingers trembling, mouth dry, I reached to undo the top button of my silk blouse, but it would require more strength than I could summon.