This week, still on the theme of Master/slave, this excerpt from a first session between a Master and his newest slave caught my attention. When I'm writing scenes like this one, it is the mind fuck that most captures my interest. What happens when a skillful Dom weaves a fantasy that goes straight to the heart of his slave's deepest longing, and drives her deeper into submission...all before he lays a hand on her.
Excerpt from In the Garden of Lust
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He’s touching my face with the tenderness of a father. I shudder and try to avert my eyes.
“Look at me, Marlena.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
“I can’t!” I shut my eyes so tight that nothing will make them open.
“Yes, you can.” He’s being very gentle. Too gentle. Why the hell doesn’t he just whip me. Send on the pain, please!
“No, I can’t. Not without coming,” my voice rises as the anxiety builds.
This time his voice is firmer. “Look at me, slave!”
I do—because a good submissive follows orders—even if it sends another surging spasm through my groin, even if I’m doomed to fail and come without permission.
With his eyes gazing deeply into mine, Benjamin presses a hand to my belly, the heat of it infecting me in seconds. While I was sure I’d come with even the most meager touch, I find to my surprise that the opposite is true; his firm hand seems to steady me rather than ramp up my arousal. Not that this isn’t intensely erotic. I feel the slow pulsing of his body through his gently resting palm. I’m momentarily unnerved but then all my frantic concerns seem to fall away as Benjamin’s energy moves into me like a balmy breeze.
“You’re going to do as you’re told, Marlena,” he speaks in an even voice, with an energy that matches his physical bravado. “You’re not going to come. You’re going to look at me and allow your arousal to simmer beneath the surface as I speak. You know the consequences of failure, and you will not fail me.” I’m amazed that he is so sure, when I’m obviously not. But I’ve seemed to tap into a new submissive gene that has me as compliant as the man suggests. “Listen to my voice, Marlena, and don’t miss a word. This is important. You understand?”
“Good.” Not once do his eyes stray from mine and I dare not glance away. I don’t think I’m even tempted to try. “I’m going to explain exactly how this relationship will work. I know we’ve exchanged communications about this, but just so there’s no question in your mind what I expect of you, let me make it clear one more time. This is how our arrangement works: For the next three months you will be my slave. My sex slave. My house domestic. A common farm hand—depending on the day, my mood and the need. For all practical purposes, consider yourself owned, as surely as I own this barn and the horses in it, the cow, that woodstove, and every item on this property. When given a command, you will obey it without question. You will do as you’re told without hesitation. You will keep a civil tongue, and you will pour every bit of passion that you’re feeling right now into being a conscientious slave.” I take in every word and my body responds with increasing arousal, and yet, that growing arousal is well-contained by Benjamin’s hand pressed against my belly. “You’re likely to hate a good deal of what I do to you. In fact, you might even hate me long before these three months are over. But, hopefully, there will be more than hate between us; I’d much prefer we exalt in this arrangement not grind it out to the bitter end. However, that said, what you feel and what you think are not of my concern. So, when this gets rough and you’re tempted to walk out—as if that would be possible—you’d better dig in hard and remember you’re a slave, not a free woman. You push at me, I’ll push back. You defy me, you’ll be punished. You challenge me, I’ll meet that challenge with more ammunition than you can fend off.” He pauses, and for a moment, our staring eyes connect on an even deeper level. “Am I scaring you?”
I gulp for air, as if I’ve been holding my breath all this time. Maybe I have. “You have me petrified,” I can barely get the words out.
“Good. You should be scared. That means the message is sinking in. It’s not one you should take lightly; it’s too crucial to this arrangement to get lost in the midst of your precious fantasies. Be clear on this point. I’ve gone toe to toe with bitches and won handily, so handling a fainting submissive like you won’t be all that hard. Any battles you wage, I will win and you will lose.” His lip curls into a terrifying sneer. “Trust me, if it’s battles you’re after, go right ahead. I’m ready for battle any day. Nothing stirs my sadist more than a petulant and misbehaving slave. And while my better self might hesitate to beat you, the sadist won’t. Where the easygoing Benjamin might bend the rules, the sadist won’t. And in settings like this one, where you willingly give your body over to me, I will rule with an iron fist and the sadist will have plenty of you to enjoy.”
As he rattles off each declaration, a sensuous darkness emerges from his eyes and seems to grab at me. I feel it in my beating heart, in my throbbing temples and tired eyes, in my clenching gut and spasming sex. He’s all over me like an infestation—of the most virulent kind. I’m eating it up like candy.
I know he wants me scared and I truly am scared. But on the flipside of fear is the thrill that brought me to this place. Overcome by my emotions, I lurch forward, setting off a noisy clattering of chains above.
He sneers again, his eyes growing colder still.
“Let me warn you, while you hang here quaking on your bare feet, while your mind tries to wrap itself around this message, there is nothing you can do to prevent the beast in me from arriving on the scene. You will be taken down to the bare essentials of your driving lust. We’ll see then if you’re really slave material, or just a bored housewife in search of a fantasy. I hope that’s not the case. What a sad waste of time that would be for both of us.”
His probing eyes continue their reign as his words flow through me. The savage arousal is still with me, stronger than ever, but still contained by the master’s unambiguous orders. That’s not to say it won’t come roaring back with little provocation and turn on me with an unbidden orgasm. But for the moment, I feel reasonably controlled.
“So, you understand me, slave?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
Suddenly, he’s gone. Stalked off. And I am left here hanging, bound in the middle of the room, waiting for Benjamin, my Master, to begin.
Copyright (c) 2009, Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved