more.
Finally, his gaze still turned away from me, he says, “The Training House has been owned by several generations of Masters and Mistresses. It was run by Master Stephan when I came here. He was a remarkable man. Tall, with long, blond hair he wore slicked back. Very European. He was Austrian. And I was only nineteen years old, so I understand being too young for such confinement. I came and went a few times, and he allowed me back every time. By the time I was twenty-two we were lovers. I don’t know that I was ever a proper slave—not in the way the others were. I don’t know that I truly had it in me. Well.” He turns back to me, and I’m not certain why he’s trusting me with all of this, or with the rawness in his expression, the shadows in his eyes. “We were together for six years when he became ill. Cancer. For the next two years I took care of him, as well as the House. During that time I expanded my skill set and my knowledge of domination, although he’d had me Top other slaves for his entertainment many times over the years. He’d had me fuck them, Girls and Boys, in front of him for his pleasure. Sometimes we’d take another slave to bed, sometimes entire orgies. But I’m not interested in that any longer. I haven’t been for some time.”
His gaze is burning into me. And I find I’m holding my breath, trying desperately to take in this information while he is mere inches from me, distracting me, my body on fire, my emotions cycling through so fast I can’t grab on to any one thing and make sense of it: yearning, fear, sympathy, hope, despair.
“Aimée. I don’t know what it is I’m looking for, but I felt the moment you arrived in my House I’d found… something . And it’s driving me mad.”
He stands and the panic takes over once more as I watch him pace the floor, his hand buried in his curling black hair.
“The thing is, I don’t know that I ever really loved the man. How terrible is that? How unfortunate for us both. Surely he knew.” He comes to me, kneels down in front of me. “I couldn’t stand it if that were the case with you. If you were never to serve me because you loved me in some way and not simply because of a contract you’d signed. If serving me fulfilled only your need to submit, and not some true desire for….”
I can feel my jaw dropping. My heart tumbles in my chest and the only thing I can get out is a harsh whisper. “Master, I serve you because I need to. I came here because I needed to serve, but after that first day, I think only of you.”
And I have just lied to my Master. Because after today I am also thinking of Christopher. But at this moment, it is the Master in front of me, and I want…everything. I want him to touch me, to hold me, to hurt me. I want to do anything he asks of me, demands of me. I do have love in my heart for him. And I realize this connection was forged the moment our eyes met in his study downstairs, when I was simply a nameless Girl. Can I ever be that for him again?
He reaches for me and cups my cheek. Tears sting my eyes.
“Why do you cry, when I’m not punishing you?”
“Because I don’t know how to cope with this tenderness from you.”
He watches me, and murmurs, “Perhaps you’ll simply have to learn how, my Aimée.”
Oh! I do my best not to burst into tears, but it happens, anyway. And then more tears as he pulls me from the sofa onto the floor with him, into his lap, and the blanket slips away as he kisses me. And oh, his kisses are delicious, his lips tender, then his teeth biting hard enough to hurt. And I understand that I will be able to take the tenderness because with him, it will always be countered with pain. I stop struggling as my heart surrenders.
He draws both my wrists behind my back as he continues to kiss me: my lips, my neck, where he bites me harder, and it hurts enough to make me pant in pain and pleasure. Lovely. Excruciating. Then he’s using the pressure points just under my
Finally, his gaze still turned away from me, he says, “The Training House has been owned by several generations of Masters and Mistresses. It was run by Master Stephan when I came here. He was a remarkable man. Tall, with long, blond hair he wore slicked back. Very European. He was Austrian. And I was only nineteen years old, so I understand being too young for such confinement. I came and went a few times, and he allowed me back every time. By the time I was twenty-two we were lovers. I don’t know that I was ever a proper slave—not in the way the others were. I don’t know that I truly had it in me. Well.” He turns back to me, and I’m not certain why he’s trusting me with all of this, or with the rawness in his expression, the shadows in his eyes. “We were together for six years when he became ill. Cancer. For the next two years I took care of him, as well as the House. During that time I expanded my skill set and my knowledge of domination, although he’d had me Top other slaves for his entertainment many times over the years. He’d had me fuck them, Girls and Boys, in front of him for his pleasure. Sometimes we’d take another slave to bed, sometimes entire orgies. But I’m not interested in that any longer. I haven’t been for some time.”
His gaze is burning into me. And I find I’m holding my breath, trying desperately to take in this information while he is mere inches from me, distracting me, my body on fire, my emotions cycling through so fast I can’t grab on to any one thing and make sense of it: yearning, fear, sympathy, hope, despair.
“Aimée. I don’t know what it is I’m looking for, but I felt the moment you arrived in my House I’d found… something . And it’s driving me mad.”
He stands and the panic takes over once more as I watch him pace the floor, his hand buried in his curling black hair.
“The thing is, I don’t know that I ever really loved the man. How terrible is that? How unfortunate for us both. Surely he knew.” He comes to me, kneels down in front of me. “I couldn’t stand it if that were the case with you. If you were never to serve me because you loved me in some way and not simply because of a contract you’d signed. If serving me fulfilled only your need to submit, and not some true desire for….”
I can feel my jaw dropping. My heart tumbles in my chest and the only thing I can get out is a harsh whisper. “Master, I serve you because I need to. I came here because I needed to serve, but after that first day, I think only of you.”
And I have just lied to my Master. Because after today I am also thinking of Christopher. But at this moment, it is the Master in front of me, and I want…everything. I want him to touch me, to hold me, to hurt me. I want to do anything he asks of me, demands of me. I do have love in my heart for him. And I realize this connection was forged the moment our eyes met in his study downstairs, when I was simply a nameless Girl. Can I ever be that for him again?
He reaches for me and cups my cheek. Tears sting my eyes.
“Why do you cry, when I’m not punishing you?”
“Because I don’t know how to cope with this tenderness from you.”
He watches me, and murmurs, “Perhaps you’ll simply have to learn how, my Aimée.”
Oh! I do my best not to burst into tears, but it happens, anyway. And then more tears as he pulls me from the sofa onto the floor with him, into his lap, and the blanket slips away as he kisses me. And oh, his kisses are delicious, his lips tender, then his teeth biting hard enough to hurt. And I understand that I will be able to take the tenderness because with him, it will always be countered with pain. I stop struggling as my heart surrenders.
He draws both my wrists behind my back as he continues to kiss me: my lips, my neck, where he bites me harder, and it hurts enough to make me pant in pain and pleasure. Lovely. Excruciating. Then he’s using the pressure points just under my
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