Rough Knight

ROUGH KNIGHT?

Sahara Kelly

© Sahara Kelly 2012 Cover art © Sahara Kelly 2012

Author’s Note The Tampa Renaissance Faire can’t help but benefit from the gorgeous Florida sunshine, especially since it’s held in early spring when much of the rest of America is shivering through the winter. Of course the weather can be a mixed blessing, and the day I visited was toasty hot. People clustered in patches of shade, sweating profusely, and yet still costumed to the gills. These are the true fans of the Renaissance Faires, and it is to these hardy souls that this book is dedicated. A special hug to the patient friend who doggedly stuck by me that day, and gave me water when I flagged; I’d have been in trouble without her helping hand. This one’s for you, P, with my thanks and appreciation for our shared experiences. And, as always, a profoundly grateful curtsey to my writing partner. A rare Renaissance gentleman indeed, who will encourage and support first, and ask why later. That’s a gift I treasure as much as his friendship. Thank you, Milord.

Prologue The woman was whimpering, her lips wet and parted, her eyes--well, they were a mystery, hidden behind a black leather mask. She was nude; her body shining beneath a slight layer of perspiration, her muscles tense and clearly delineated by the harsh light from one side of the room. She was beautiful in a fleshy kind of way, with rounded hips and thighs that whispered more of Rubens than runway. Her breasts were full, but distended by the weighted metal clamps attached to her nipples. Her long brown hair was neatly intertwined into a braid that hung down her spine and it matched the tuft of curls hiding the lips of her sex. It could have been described as a modest pose, despite the woman’s nudity. Yes, her arms were shackled above her head, making her breasts more prominent, but she stood in the classic position--legs together, body somehow attempting to conceal itself from prying eyes. Until the man reached down and thrust his hand roughly between her thighs. She couldn’t help but shift her feet and allow him the intrusion. He pulled her body forward and up a little, forcing her mound into the light and revealing the shining pink folds of flesh. “Sweet thing.” He stared down at her. “Mine. Do you understand me, slave?” The woman nodded. “Yes…” “You spoke. That is forbidden.” She hung her head and yet there was something in her stance that seemed excited. She must have heard the man reaching to a low table beside them, and she couldn’t have missed the distinct whoosh of several long leather strips attached to a cleverly knotted handle. She certainly didn’t miss the slapping lash of the flogger as its tails connected with the skin on her buttocks. She jumped, sobbed out a gasp and then turned, very slightly, as if anticipating the next blow, welcoming it, urging the man to do it again. He did. He set a slow rhythm, slap-slap-slap, moving his wrist in effortless motions and yet administering the lashing with enough force to redden the flesh of her ass. Then he changed pace, moved directly behind her and began interspersing his spanking lashes with ones that flicked between her legs. Her muted cries attested to the fact he was reaching his target with each blow. He was punishing her clitoris--and her sex. And she was moaning, her legs spread wide, her ass thrust backward, eagerly waiting for more. The man was sweating, his cock a hard bulge beneath his black pants. His face was inscrutable, expressionless, focused entirely on the naked woman beneath his flogger. And within a few more minutes the inevitable occurred. She tensed, choking out sharp gasps, her muscles taut and bunched beneath her pale skin. The red marks on her ass stood out in sharp relief, especially as she clenched her lower body in readiness for the onslaught of delirious pleasure.

Quickly the man spun her around, knocking her off balance, making her cry out. He ripped the pegs from her nipples, ignored her scream of sweet agony and unzipped his pants. He was inside her as the first shudders of orgasm took her, and pumping into her as she writhed through her release. His hips thudded into hers with what looked like savage force. She screamed again, a howl of completion, an animalistic sound that would have been equally at home in a New York City high-rise apartment or the dark depths of a Jurassic era rainforest. As she sagged in her restraints, the picture faded and the soundtrack swelled. The credits began to roll. Sophie Lewis licked lips that had dried as she panted along with the submissive slave in the movie. Then, obeying an overwhelming urge, she slipped a hand inside her shorts and masturbated herself to climax, wishing all the while there was someone, a Master, a Dom, someone there with her, pushing her, forcing her past those limits she knew held her back. Sophie had discovered something inside her soul. Maybe it was some kind of darkness or maybe it was just a door that needed the right hand to open it. She didn’t know. But it was there, all the same. And soon she was going to have to do something about it or face a life that offered nothing more than bland vanilla sex. That was no longer an option for Sophie. She had soared once, a rare and amazing experience, discovered by accident while playing with a lover. The silk ties on her wrists, the spanking, it had been lighthearted and fun. But the sensations had gone deeper than she’d realized and the explosive orgasm had stunned her at the time and haunted her afterward. Even scared her a little. Now she was past being scared. She was hungry. Hungry to know that madness again. To hit that point where there was nothing but the body, and the hand of a Master controlling it. Where she could truly submit, let go of everything she was and offer it as a gift to a man who would know what to do with it. She’d researched, read, spent hours on the Internet in BDSM chat rooms, and rented a lot of videos like the one she’d just watched. She’d even wrangled an invite to a play party. All the information she’d gathered simply confirmed for her mind what her body already knew. It was time. Time to take her desires to the next step. She touched herself, rubbed her wet and swollen flesh, and lay back on the couch as her orgasm rolled through her. It was a relief and eased those lusts that had risen during the film. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. For her own satisfaction, her own sanity, she had to find out exactly what was enough.

Which was why, on the next morning, she was going to slip into the most stereotypical leather submissive outfit she could find and head out to the Tampa Renaissance Faire. She’d fit right in with all the other outrageous costumes, she knew. So it wasn’t how she’d look - it was how she’d feel. Specifically how she’d feel when she saw him again. This was going to be the culmination of six months worth of dancing around the edges of a dangerous volcano. And the volcano had a name…Royce. Royce Harper. Dominant. Master. And perhaps Sophie’s ultimate destiny. Tomorrow would tell…

Chapter One

It was going to be hot, no two ways about it. Sophie shifted her small camera bag and thanked her lucky stars she could shoot so much with such a compact unit. Technology had stimulated camera evolution and now she had one that was able to capture a dragonfly sneezing - if she was at the right place at the right time, of course. And the damn thing fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. Adjusting her hat so that the straw brim covered her nose, she walked carefully along the dirt path, avoiding the worst of the ruts and trying to keep to where the woodchips were deepest. Heavy rains, often accompanying an early spring hot spell, washed the chips into the depressions, leaving a surface that wasn’t always easy to negotiate. Fortunately, Sophie wasn’t dressed in full Elizabethan gown, or dainty boots. This was the Tampa Renaissance Faire, but she’d chosen a different look. Her tiny leather skirt was fastened on one side over a black thong. The top was little more than a brief piece of matching leather, which covered her breasts and tied with a couple of straps over her shoulders. It left most of her back as bare as her midriff. Around her neck was a thick black leather collar with tiny sparkling studs and a metal ring, known as a Dring, in front. She had slipped her feet into light leather sandals that were cool and comfortable, but also meant she had to watch her step on the bumpy mulch as she followed the track toward her destination. Forged in Flames. A dramatic name for a vendor at a Renn Faire, but an apt one. She knew it was where she’d find him, Royce Harper, farrier and ironworker. He was the one she’d come to see. Accepting this freelance job, shooting the Faire for a local Tampa publication, well that had been a happy accident of fate. She knew the work would be a pleasure, since she’d attended this event for several years in a row now. In fact, in the hour since she’d arrived, she already had more than enough data tucked onto her tiny memory card to keep the paper happy for a week. It was when she’d learned that Royce was going to be there...that was when everything changed. Sophie took to her closet and dug out her unworn fetish gear. Today was going to be the day she admitted to, and with luck explored, her private fantasies. A day she could turn her darkest dreams into erotic reality. She was going to submit to a man in all the sexual ways there were. At least she thought so. She might just turn tail, flash her thong-clad butt at the crowded Faire and skedaddle. Decisions like these were life changers and she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she was ready to change her life so drastically.

But she walked on, turning everything over in her mind as she tried not to dwell too much on Royce himself. Which, of course, was impossible. Sophie had first met him at a local horse show. Most tourists didn’t realize how extensive the horse community was down in the Sunshine State. They never got past the beaches and the theme parks. And while it didn’t exactly come close to Kentucky or Virginia for stud farms or famous races, there was still a very active segment of the Florida population that was deeply involved in the raising, training and riding of horses. She’d learned quite a bit that day, she remembered. But for Sophie, it wasn’t the great four-footed shires that had impressed her the most. It was one massive male beast with two feet. Royce. He was built along the lines of a Viking warrior. She heard a couple of women compare him to a certain movie barbarian. They did so with a note of yearning in their voices and Sophie could see why. When his piercing gaze first crossed hers, she felt it down to her panties. When he stopped, stared, and then smiled politely, she was lost. The rest of the day she tried to avoid him, sort of. And failed miserably. He was always around, behind her when she least expected it, popping up now and again to answer a question about his work or pass out a card for his business. They’d chatted, as such casual acquaintances do, keeping it light and friendly. Yet beneath it, there was something that snagged at Sophie’s soul, and it wasn’t simply the attraction of a super hunk of man. “I hope we’ll meet again, Sophie.” He’d held out his hand at the end of the day. “I’d enjoy some more time to talk with you. I believe we have things in common.” Sophie remembered the look of her hand, so tiny enfolded in his massive palms. And she recalled how he’d smiled down at her as she’d laughed. “We do?” “Oh yes. I think you’d enjoy being trained. Not unlike Cassiopeia over there.” He’d nodded to an exquisite chestnut mare, tossing her head as she was gently schooled by her owner. He was using a leading rein, soft words, and delicate touches of a whip. Sophie’s heart had thudded to a stop as she watched, Royce at her side, not touching her, but overwhelming her with his presence. That was when she realized he was a Dom. A dominant male who took complete control over a woman. And it was the moment she realized that she wanted that. Wanted him bending her to his will. “I...I have to go.” She’d left feeling like a scared rabbit, not quite running, but hurrying as fast as she could, trying to put some distance between them. Physically, she’d succeeded, but from that point on, Royce had lurked in her mind, an unsettling presence, waiting… His preferences had been confirmed as Sophie began to do more serious research into the BDSM lifestyle, and managed to make a few contacts in her area. Discreet and private, it wasn’t easy gaining entry into the shadowed world that most practitioners

preferred to keep to themselves. But once she got people talking, Royce’s name came up more and more. Finally she got an invitation to attend a small BDSM play party, or dungeon as they were known to members. The evening of naked bondage and submission had ripped away her facade of curiosity and revealed what she really felt - a need to be a part of the action, not just a guest voyeur. She’d called Royce the next day. He hadn’t seemed surprised to hear from her, but was about to head out of town. He’d told her about the Faire and his schedule, leaving it up to her to make the choice of if or when she’d come to him. Today was the day. Sophie paused and captured a quick shot of a small boy gazing in awe at a brightly covered vendor’s stall filled with weaponry. She wondered if that would be her perfect shot-of-the-day, since it seemed to grab the essence of the moment in a simple image. Small male, large sword, bright colors. Not much more to be said in a photo. She grinned, wondering if that was too harsh an indictment of men. But then the youngster was joined by a group of other lads, varying in ages from seven to about thirty-four. They all wore that same look of wonder. Nah. She was right on target with that shot. Women would look at it and just smirk. Some things were just there and needed no explanation or justification. A dull clanging sound interrupted her thoughts, and Sophie turned to see smoke billowing out from a stall at what looked like the end of one medieval lane. It had to be a forge. The fact that there would be a working forge at the Faire, along with demonstrations of weapon making, horse-shoeing, and other medieval ironmongery, had been a big lure for many visitors, Sophie among them. Sure, it would be fascinating to watch the blade of a broadsword appear from a hunk of metal, but it was the hunk working the magic with mallet and anvil that she was here to observe. As she walked further down the lane she saw the fire, flames licking at logs, the heat evident even as it mingled with the rising shimmer of the day. Whoever had laid out this thing had made sure that anything as dangerous as an open forge would be well away from any other flammable stalls. The Faerie wings, for example, were way on the other side of the event. She shuddered to think of the crackling conflagration that might occur if wing met errant ember. Then she got near enough to see him. Royce. And most of her capacity for rational thought shut down for a bit. She simply stood behind a small crowd and watched. He was bare to the waist, clad in something leathery mixed with chain mail bits and a few studs here and there, mostly on a thick belt. His boots were clunky, and Sophie knew every bit of his clothing was functional. He wasn’t in costume per se, he

had simply donned the clothes of a genuine blacksmith from centuries ago. A very wellbuilt blacksmith. It occurred to her that way back when, such workers might have preferred to keep their chests covered and thus protected from errant flying cinders or whatever the dangerous glowing sparks were called. But Royce disdained such a shield, and she quickly realized there was a knack to hitting a piece of glowing metal with a hammer. Crash it down at the right angle and sparks flew away from, not toward, bare skin. And what bare skin it was. Lightly tanned, rippled with veins and muscles as he moved, Royce was a study in masculinity. There was nothing soft about him at all. He could indeed have been a medieval blacksmith hard at work in the village forge. He ignored the onlookers, seeming utterly lost in his craft, focused entirely on the anvil, the metal and his rhythmic blows. Sweat rolled unheeded from his forehead, sizzling and popping as drops spattered on the glowing metal. Even the young squire holding the tongs seemed hypnotized. He barely moved a muscle as his tools secured the hot metal in place against the anvil, and held it steady as Royce worked it. There was a gasp as another smith walked up, grabbed a hammer and interspersed Royce’s blows with his own. Double-teaming the bright blade sent shivers of excitement through the crowd and people moved in time to the accelerated sound of two hammers. Finally, it was done to their satisfaction and there was a round of applause as the metal was held aloft, examined and then dunked into a bucket of water where it produced a loud hiss and a cloud of steam. Then, and only then, Royce looked up at his audience. His gaze found Sophie almost immediately, and while his expression never really changed, she felt his awareness in the intensity of his stare. Then he turned away, spoke to the young apprentice and walked from the fire pit into the back of the forge, out of sight. Another blacksmith walked out and directed everyone over to the stall where weapons of varying levels of destruction were available for sale to those who could prove they were old enough to bear arms. Sophie grinned at one nine-year-old boy who was irate that he didn’t qualify. Clearly a student of history, the lad loudly denounced the vendor, offered the names of several well-known squires who were his age and contributed to history in their own ways, and pouted when all his rationalizations did no good. The law was the law, he was informed politely but firmly. Over eighteen or no sword. Still watching the ongoing dispute, she hadn’t noticed Royce’s apprentice behind her until he touched her on the shoulder. “Would you come with me, Miss? Master Royce requests your presence.” Sophie’s heart thumped to hear him referred to in that way, but she kept her thoughts to herself. “Of course. Is he your Master as well?” The young man smiled. “We’re all learning from him, Miss. He’s very good at the art and craft of forging just about anything. None better in the state, I reckon. He’s earned the title of Master.”

She thought about that, wondering if it was a misunderstanding or if the lad knew what she’d meant. Wisely, she decided to let it go. She’d find out whatever she needed to know soon, now. Very soon. They walked around the far side of the forge and through a gate in the tall wooden fence marking the end of the public Faire grounds. It took them back stage, behind the scenes of the event and into an area where the twentieth century was shed and replaced with the sixteenth. Or whatever time period was appropriate. Next to a big pile of neatly stacked wood and a very modern red wheelbarrow, was a large cage, not unlike one she’d seen used for lions or other wild animals. And it was to this cage she was led. “Master Royce said you’d understand, Miss. Would you step inside please?” He held the cage door open respectfully. “I’ll take your belongings. They will be absolutely safe, I assure you.” Hesitantly, Sophie looked at him. “My camera is here. I have shots on it from today I won’t be able to replace. And a lot of them are for my assignment.” “I understand. Truly. Master Royce will take care of everything. I’m to give your stuff directly to him as soon as you’re settled.” He smiled reassuringly. “All of us know Master Royce and like him a lot. We all trust him. We give up our weekends in the spring to come work with him and learn from him. He’s never let us down. I don’t think he’s about to let you down, either, Miss.” Sophie engaged in a mental debate with herself that lasted for maybe sixty seconds. Then she handed over her bag to the waiting lad. He smiled again as she bent to clamber into the cage, unable to stand erect, but with plenty of room for her legs as she sat down in the straw scattered on the floor. “There you are then, Miss. All set. I’ll go tell Master Royce.” He shut the door with a clang and Sophie couldn’t miss the old-fashioned lock and large iron key. “Oh, one more thing.” She blinked as he grabbed a large bundle from the wheelbarrow, then gasped as he tossed it onto the top of the cage. It was a tarpaulin. “You just relax. Master Royce will take care of everything from now on.” The lad’s face disappeared as the tarp fell down and shut Sophie off from the daylight. It was hot, dark and a little bit frightening. But she reminded herself that it was what she had asked for. She was about to enter the world of a submissive. How better to start than in a cage?

Chapter Two

Sweat began to roll down her spine as Sophie sat patiently behind her bars. It was later in the afternoon and she was relieved to notice that the sun had moved off the tarpaulin covering her. But even so, it was stuffy, with little air to relieve the oppressive sense of isolation she felt. Of course it was all in her head. And she knew with certainty that this little incarceration marked the beginning of the psychological games involved in the life of a submissive. At the present time she was robbed of her freedom to move around. She could have pushed a hand through the bars and lifted the tarp if she’d wanted, but she didn’t. The promise she’d made to herself precluded such an act. To be a submissive, she had to submit. And allowing herself to remain quiet in this heated darkness -- that was the first step. Suddenly a bump jerked her out of her thoughts and she realized poles had been slipped through the rings on the bottom of the cage. She felt herself lifted, and another bump shook the tarp. She was being loaded onto the back of a truck. No words were spoken, and it was more the lack of human interaction than the surroundings that rattled her composure. “Hello? Where are we going?” Silence greeted her words. The noise of the Faire was the only sound and she spun around as the tarpaulin was secured to a bar near her hand. A quick glimpse of fingers tying a tape and that was it. She was tucked in to her cage, covered from prying eyes, a simple shrouded box in the back of an ordinary vehicle. Nobody would think twice about it. The flatbed shook as the tailgate was slammed shut, and then Sophie braced herself as she heard the engine start. It was incredibly rough and bumpy for the first few minutes and she bit back a whimper as she laced her fingers through the bars above her and hung on. Then, finally, the tires hit asphalt and she could breathe again. They were out of the Faire, on the highway to -- well, exactly where, she didn’t know. For a few seconds, terrifying thoughts flashed through her mind and she wondered if she’d gone completely insane. Here she was, locked in a cage, going who-knewwhere, without a single soul knowing she was, in fact, vanishing off the face of the planet. She should’ve called Slash. She should’ve called her mother. Well, no, not her mother, but Slash would definitely have understood. Maybe. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Her self-recrimination was brought rapidly to a halt as the truck made a sharp turn and then slowed to a stop. Wherever they had been headed -- they’d arrived. Once again there was a disorienting sense of being lifted and carried and then blissful cool air began to filter into the cage. She was now indoors, maybe a garage or some kind of room off a driveway. She wasn’t sure. Her heart rate accelerated as she heard the low murmur of voices and recognized one right away. It was Royce. Her fears dissolved, to be replaced by a different kind of apprehension. A mix of excitement and nerves, stirred by a thin dart of lust. The straw on the bottom of the cage was prickly against her almost bare buttocks and suddenly her body awoke to the sensation. She gripped the cage bars on either side of her spine -- and waited, eyes closed, her senses focused on the sounds beyond her little prison. The air continued to cool and it wasn’t long before the first tiny shiver brought goose bumps to her skin. As if that was a cue, hands began to untie the tarpaulin. Silence had fallen, so Sophie had no idea who was about to remove her covering. Would it be him? What should she do? Say? How should she act? Her mind roiled with the turbulence of eager and anxious questions, much as her belly roiled with the excitement of knowing she would be sexually initiated into the world of submissives before too long. Or at least she hoped so. Her spirits plummeted as she wondered if she’d have to wait, to go through some kind of prolonged preparation. God, she didn’t know if she could. She wanted to be taken, claimed, forced into letting go of so much more than her panties. She wanted to open her legs and her soul to a man. She wanted her Dom to teach her about her own sexuality. She wanted... “Hello. I’m Ann.” The voice was soft and Sophie blinked as a woman eased back the covering. She shifted awkwardly in the cage and looked around. “Uh, hi. Where am I?” Ann smiled as she rolled the tarp neatly next to the cage. “You’re at Master Royce’s house.” “Oh. Okay.” “I know it’s a bit strange at first.” Ann fiddled with the lock on the cage and the door finally opened. She held out a hand to help Sophie emerge. “You’ll get used to it. This is the Master’s hideaway. You’re so lucky to be here.” “I am?” Sophie groaned as her legs reminded her she’d been sitting awkwardly for some time. “Oh yes.” Ann waved her hand around and for the first time Sophie got a good look at her surroundings. She was at the back of a large patio, shaded and cooled by the roof over this portion and the ceiling fans moving the air steadily around. There was a sparkling pool nearer the sun-filled edge and a bubbling area shaped like a shell where it looked like there

might be a hot tub. Against one wall was an open shower and everywhere there were flowers, in massive planters and smaller pots. The brilliance that was Florida seemed to have gathered in this one luxurious and secluded spot. “It’s lovely.” Sophie meant that. There was something about the colors, the soft murmur of the water...a tranquility that so many homeowners attempted to capture, and most of the time failed dismally. Of course, there wasn’t a plastic flamingo in sight, and that certainly helped. Sophie turned to Ann, who was waiting patiently at her side. “Do you live here?” “Oh no.” Ann chuckled. “Although I wouldn’t mind in the least.” She took Sophie’s hand and led her to the shower. “I’m Master Royce’s student. He’s training me to be a submissive.” Sophie paused, bringing Ann to a halt. “You’re his submissive? You sleep with him?” Ann shook her head. “No. It’s not like that.” She sighed. “You have a lot to learn, Sophie. But first, let’s get you cleaned up.” “I don’t understand.” Sophie let Ann pull her to the shower. “I know.” Ann rapidly unsnapped the black top and tugged it away. “Hey.” “Be quiet. Be obedient please. I am going to wash you. And you will enjoy it because it’s what our Master ordered me to do.” Sophie opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Ann removed her own clothing without a blink, tossing shorts and t-shirt to one side, revealing a lack of panties, a pleasantly tanned body and some shapely curves. She was shaved, noticed Sophie, who had often wondered about removing her pubic hair. Being blonde, it wasn’t a huge problem, but she found herself unwillingly fascinated by the other woman’s bared mound. By the time she’d gotten over the no-fuzz thing, she was naked herself. Ann was efficiently stripping her, as if Sophie was four years old. And oddly enough, Sophie was obeying every guiding move. Ann turned on the shower and the two nude women were beneath the warm stream of water. “I’m being trained as a submissive, Sophie. I have a wonderful Mistress waiting for me. I just wanted you to know. It won’t prepare you, I understand that, but perhaps it will make it easier for you to accept.” Sophie frowned, confused, blinking water from her eyes and more than a little selfconscious. When Ann reached for the liquid soap, lathered her hands and then proceeded to carefully wash Sophie’s breasts, enlightenment dawned. “Eeek.” Not the most profound comment, but Sophie felt it fit the moment. She followed it with “Uh...” as Ann toyed with nipples that automatically responded to the gentle caress. Breasts, apparently, were not gender-biased. Any touch would wake them and Ann’s was definitely arousing the girls.

She wanted to back away, to screech loudly, grab her clothes and run for the hills. But that was the traditional part of her brain talking. Her body was telling her something quite different, and her heart kept remembering Ann’s words. Our Master ordered me to. Was he watching? She could ask... “Ann, is-is our Master watching us?” “Shhh.” Ann leaned forward and suckled Sophie’s nipples, treating each one to some deliciously arousing tongue play. It was answer enough. Probably yes because, hell, he might be a Dominant, but he was male. Even if not, Ann was obeying her Master’s wishes. And it was something Sophie would have to accept, and learn to do herself. Overriding all these sound and sensible arguments in her brain, was the unmistakable input from her body. Nice. Feels good. Very pleasant. Definitely turning me on. She’d never had any inclination to pursue women sexually, and if anyone had suggested to her that it would be a sensually delightful thing, Sophie probably would have given a loud snort of derision. Whether Ann was gay or bi, or whatever she was... Sophie had to admit that these touches, these lingering caresses in just the right places in just the right way...well, hell. The water continued to stream over them as Ann slid her hands from Sophie’s breasts and encircled her, pulling them into a hug that -- closely matched in height as they were -- brought their bodies into intimate contact. It was followed by some shampoo and a kiss, in that order. Then lather, rinse and repeat. Both actions. With eyes closed, Sophie let Ann lather her hair, the scent of citrus and jasmine flowing from the foam as it dripped down her body. It seemed only natural to feel Ann’s mouth brush hers, and Sophie’s lips parted, half in a gasp and half in readiness for what they knew would be next. As Ann’s hands lathered Sophie’s head, her mouth claimed Sophie’s in a deep kiss, her tongue penetrating and caressing, her lips soft but demanding. Sophie couldn’t help but kiss her back. To her astonishment, she found herself responding wildly, her arms going around Ann, her hands slipping down to the other woman’s buttocks and grabbing them hard, making Ann moan a little into Sophie’s mouth. It was as if some kind of tropical madness hit both women, stimulated by sweetsmelling shampoo and the mutual pleasure of feeling soft feminine skin. They twined, Sophie eagerly meeting Ann’s forward thrusting pubis, grinding them together in a frenzy of excitement. Apparently Ann was already close, since one hard push and Sophie felt her tighten and cry out. She opened her eyes to see Ann’s face contort as she shook and shattered through an orgasm. It was amazing to watch, to hold her as she climaxed, to see a woman this close as she rode out her release. It was also incredibly arousing, and the feel of soft skin against Sophie’s...well, it was beyond extraordinary.

“God, you’re something else.” Ann panted as she sagged. “Our Master will be pleased.” A lick of pride stiffened Sophie’s spine and she squared her shoulders. “I’m glad.” Ann caressed her, then let her hand slip over Sophie’s belly to her sex. “You should be. You made me weak as a kitten. And now I’m going to make you weak, as well.” Before Sophie could do more than push a lock of wet hair out of the way, Ann was down between her legs. And seconds later, Sophie felt her world rock. Ann, being a woman and possessing all the necessary attributes, knew exactly where to put her mouth. Sophie’s shriek echoed over the pool and into the house where, from behind some darkened sliding glass doors, a naked man was watching. And absently stroking his powerful erection.

*~*~*~* Royce Harper enjoyed the touch of his own hand and had no qualms about keeping his arousal simmering as he watched the two women beneath the shower on his patio. Many men wouldn’t understand how he had trained himself to keep his dick hard without coming. But then again, many wouldn’t understand the concept of Domination and how it applied to what he now was -- a Master. He wouldn’t even try to explain that his relationship with Ann was just that, Master and slave. But not in a sexual way. He would use her sexually if he was in the mood and she understood that. However, their physical interaction merely reinforced Ann’s submission to Royce’s domination. It was not emotional in the “lovers” kind of way. These were situations that most men wouldn’t get if you beat them with a two by four while repeating the details over and over again. Royce never bothered to discuss such things with anyone who wasn’t familiar with his lifestyle. Some expressed curiosity, but the conversation only went as far as Royce deemed appropriate. A casual question over a beer was fine, but unless there were special circumstances, it wouldn’t lead to a dialogue about any BDSM philosophies. That took several meetings and a firmly stated desire to learn more, backed up by a private evaluation made by Royce’s discerning eye. Popping a cold one while watching football didn’t meet those criteria. But today, while enjoying the feeling of being sexually aroused, Royce was only too aware that a new sensation was about to enter his controlled world. And her name was Sophie Lewis. Their first encounter had set his radar humming and her clear interest in his lifestyle had intrigued him. She had passed all his subtly administered tests, demonstrated that she was truly committed to learning more and finally taken the step that had brought her here.

She wanted to become his slave. His sexual slave. This wouldn’t be a teacher-pupil situation, although he would indeed teach her many things. No, Sophie wanted to submit sexually. To give him what he knew was a valuable gift. Control of her body. What surprised him was that he already wanted more. He wanted control of all of her, not just her sex. It was a first for him and, although outwardly as serene as always, inside Royce was more than a little apprehensive. His years as a Master had set his world on a certain path. He wasn’t sure he was ready to have that path moved, shifted and possibly turned upside down by one slender blonde photographer. He could have recommended any of half a dozen Dominants who would have treated her well and shown her the path into the world of a submissive. But he hadn't. The mere thought of someone else schooling Sophie had upset him more than he wanted to admit. So he'd kept his counsel and hoped, if it was meant to be, that he and Sophie would meet again under the right circumstances. Today, finally, the right circumstances had arrived. He focused again on the artistically beautiful tableau of two women pleasuring each other. Sophie’s skin was glowing cream, shining beneath the water, dappled with lather from her shampoo. Ann was kneeling, darker hair between Sophie’s thighs, her head moving gently as she licked and sucked Sophie’s sensitive and intimate flesh. There was such wonder in the sight. Royce’s soul stirred, much as it did when he had the chance to see horses freely galloping across a Florida meadow, their manes streaming out behind them, their stride steady and purposeful. He appreciated beauty in all its different forms. This -- women sharing and experiencing ecstasy -- was one of the best. Ann was working Sophie hard now, and Sophie was responding, unable to control the shivers of passion. She was obviously a woman who loved oral sex -- a point in her favor as far as Royce was concerned -- and she’d already shed more than a few inhibitions, since she was getting eaten out by a woman. He knew it was a first for her simply by the look on her face when Ann touched her. Overall, he was impressed. The Master in him looked forward to schooling Sophie, taking her places she’d never imagined, watching her submit to him, having her obey his every whim. And for the first time in many years, the man inside Royce Harper wanted to watch her come, taste her heat, thrust his fingers and his cock deep into her sex and then possibly do it all over again after a short nap. Just the idea resulted in a totally unexpected ache in his cock and he shocked himself by squeezing hard, pumping and letting go, coming copiously inside his own sunroom. Stunned, he looked at his semen and watched in amazement as it spurted energetically toward the women. His head lifted in time to see that Sophie had twisted

herself around in response to Ann’s touch, her arms high and grasping the showerhead as she thrust her pussy into the other woman’s mouth. Her scream was real, guttural and ferocious. She came, her entire body shaking, her legs trembling and her mouth wide as she gasped for air. Royce trembled too as he reached for tissues to clean himself up. He was going to have to be very, very careful while dealing with Sophie Lewis. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he let his guard down, she might just end up controlling him.

Chapter Three

Sophie dozed on a chaise, the heat of her passion having exhausted her. It was growing dark, the air was cool and she was glad of the light blanket Ann had given her, along with a towel to finish drying her hair. The women had said little to each other, mostly because Sophie had no clue what to say. Did one thank a woman who’d just been enthusiastically sucking one’s pussy? What was appropriate? Nice job? Or...gosh, you’re good at this? Thanks for the tongue? So she’d said nothing, and Ann had simply touched Sophie’s hand with a smile. Then she had left the patio through a door into the house, locking it behind her and leaving Sophie alone. Which wasn’t a bad thing, really. She needed the chance to gather her thoughts, to collect herself, as her favorite historical romances were wont to say. This was certainly a time for collecting, since she felt bits of her had blasted all over this elegant and secluded patio. With mostly dry hair and the blanket acting both as a covering and insulation, she waited patiently for whatever was coming next. The edge was off her sexual desire, but she had a suspicion that if Royce appeared that edge would be back. In spades. The afternoon hadn’t been what she’d expected at all. Ready for anything from a ball-gag to a spanking from the hand of a Master, she’d been bathed, tended and aroused by another woman instead. And had reached a climax thanks to a knowledgeable feminine tongue, of all things, after watching the woman herself masturbate to orgasm against Sophie’s pussy. Yeah, that hadn’t really been something she’d imagined would happen. And it also wasn’t anything she was planning on mentioning on Twitter. From now on, any event would be hers to protect. In fact, the moment she got out of that cage marked her entrance into a new world. It was one she couldn’t and wouldn’t share. So her little chick porn adventure of this afternoon would stay in her memories, but nowhere else. Although, to be bluntly honest, it hadn’t been exactly unpleasant… She allowed herself a little giggle and then sighed as she idly ran her fingers through her tangled hair and stared up at the darkening sky. Where was he? Why didn’t he come and talk with her? Was this it? One lesbian orgasm and she was going to be shown the door? Sheesh. She jumped a little as her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a slider opening. Sure enough, a section of the darkened glass next to the patio slid to one side and there he was. Royce. Her soon-to-be Master.

Bare-chested and bare-footed, he strolled slowly and silently toward her, smooth as a jungle cat, a predator at ease in his surroundings. He had a loose pair of cream linen pants tied by a drawstring at his waist, but not much else that Sophie could see. Then she met his gaze and her breath caught in her lungs. His eyes were light, somewhere between blue and grey. Right at this moment they were soft, the calm blue of a northern sea at dawn. And they were focused on her with laser-like intensity. “Hello Sophie. Welcome.” He crossed the warm stones and sat beside her on the chaise. “Hi.” She bit her lip and opted for honesty. “I’m not sure what…how…” She hesitated. “I know.” He reached out and casually touched her forearm. “You have many questions and I have many things to tell you as well. If you would come with me, indoors, we need to spend some time talking about the preliminaries and I need to make sure you understand what lies ahead.” He smiled, a quick flash of warmth that charmed her. “And you’re probably hungry and in need of a bathroom.” She swallowed down her nerves and smiled back. “You have no idea.” He rose and held out his hand, a wicked gleam behind those amazing eyes. “Oh but I do.” She stifled her “eek”, but it was close. Damn. He had been watching her and Ann beneath the shower. Trying for a little control, Sophie gathered the blanket around her, placed her hand in his and let him lead her into the cool darkness of his sunroom. He slid the door closed, latched it, and gestured to a hallway. “You’ll find a bathroom down there. Second door on the right.” She heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you. That sounds wonderful.” “Oh, and Sophie?” Halfway there, she glanced back over her shoulder to see him removing his pants. He wore nothing beneath. “Nudity is expected within these walls. And sometimes outside as well. We take pride in our bodies and I expect to see yours at all times.” He turned away casually, treating her to a nice image of his firm and shapely ass. “Leave the blanket in the bathroom please.” “Uh…sure. Okay.” She nearly ran to the security of the bathroom. Leaning against the door as she shut it behind her seemed silly and certainly wouldn’t keep Royce out if he wanted in. Which of course he wouldn’t, because it was his bathroom and where was she going to go anyway? Absently she took care of her needs and found a brush and comb handy to tidy her hair into some semblance of order. But it wasn’t her toilette that was on her mind. It was her body. She was going to have to walk out of this little sanctuary stark naked. She washed her hands again, just to keep from shaking. Then she looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. This was her choice. What she’d wanted from the start. Yes, she was nervous -- even a little scared, if she were brutally honest. But that was to be

expected. And the fear came with a lick of inner heat that flicked hungrily at her breasts and her pussy. Something about this particular surge of adrenaline was arousing her. She could do this. She would do this. With a deep breath, she hung the blanket on the back of the bathroom door, unlocked it, turned off the light and walked back into the sunroom. Her senses seemed heightened, because she could feel the slight draft of cool air from the air conditioner and the rotating ceiling fan high on the tall ceiling. Beneath her feet, the tiles were slick and smooth. And in front of her was Royce, casually seated in a large chair with many colorful cushions behind him. A matching rug covered the floor at his feet and he looked completely right against the brilliant hues. He was reading something which he put aside as Sophie entered. “Good, you found everything.” She nodded. “I did. Thank you.” “Then let’s talk.” He beckoned her with a slight gesture. “Since we both know why you’re here, I’d like to begin by asking you to join me and learn the accepted submissive position.” The question was asked calmly and without any overtones. He might have been asking if she took sugar in her tea. Despite a heart that threatened to thump its way up her throat, Sophie neared the chair and tried to control her breathing. “How?” A flash of approval crossed his face and he pointed at the rug next to his chair. “Kneel here, Sophie.” She did, aware of her body, of the way her breasts moved against her skin, feeling the coolness of her calves against the backs of her thighs as she knelt obediently. “Move your knees apart and sit back on your heels.” Royce calmly directed her as she followed his instructions. “Good. I like to be able to see your pussy as we talk.” Oh God. “Place your hands, palms down, on top of your thighs.” Sophie did so. “Very nice. Very nice indeed.” Royce nodded, pleased. “Usually, you will look down until I require your attention. Do you understand?” “Yes.” “But for now, since we are beginning our journey together, you may raise your head. And, at this time, you may speak freely. After a certain point, you will understand more, Sophie. But for that to happen you must be able to ask about things you do not yet comprehend. So this will be our time to lay the groundwork, and for you to explore the threshold into the world of submission.” Sophie looked at him, noting his demeanor, his quiet restraint, and the air of -- yes dominance, which radiated from him so strongly. “Do I call you Master?” “If you wish. It might be a good idea for you to get used to it?” “Very well, Master.” The words made her shiver and she blushed as she realized her nipples were hardening prominently. She lowered her eyes.

“Don’t.” Royce’s voice was firm. “Never be ashamed of your body or its responses to what may happen. We are a sensual and sexual species and our preferences are wideranging. Nothing, nothing that happens between consenting adults, can be wrong or embarrassing.” Sophie took courage from his words and looked up again. “I’ve heard of the SSC rule. Safe, sane and consensual.” “Good.” Royce smiled approvingly. “You’ve done your homework, I see. Yes, that rule is mandatory. No exceptions. Sometimes a Dom will sign a written contract with his submissive, making the Safe, Sane and Consensual agreement absolutely inviolate. At other times, a discussion like this will serve as a temporary promissory note, if you will. An unbreakable verbal agreement that both parties will only engage in activity that they mutually consider to be safe, sane and always consensual. That one party may, at any time, elect to halt the activity and no reason need be stated.” “A safe word.” Royce nodded. “Yes, that’s an important part of it. Have you decided on one, Sophie? What you pick now will be yours forever, so choose carefully.” She glanced away from his gaze for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Yes, I did spend some time deciding.” She faced him, this man who would Dominate her, show her a world she’d only glimpsed through a vanilla fog. “My safe word will be accolade.”

*~*~*~* Royce couldn’t help a grin. “Good choice. I’m a fan of the pre-Raphaelites myself and that particular painting is one of my favorites.” She smiled back, obviously delighted he had recognized the reference, and his gut torqued tight. Just seeing her there, accustoming herself to the submissive pose, wideeyed and curious -- well, it was taking a helluva lot more control than usual. “So we have your safe word and you are handling the submissive position very nicely. I’m sure you have more questions?” He watched her expression, which revealed her thoughts so clearly. She was trying to come to terms with everything, not quite comfortable with her nudity and yet aroused by it. He could detect the scent of her pussy as it warmed and moistened. “How does this work?” “A good, if expansive, question.” Casually he uncrossed and crossed his legs again, settling his rigid erection more comfortably, if there was such a thing. “You are about to become my submissive.” She shifted. “If I may, Master, I wish to be your -- your sexual submissive. I don’t believe I could support the 24/7 lifestyle.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Understood, Sophie. To be very honest, I too find it difficult to manage a full 24/7 commitment. I will do so for my trainees if they require it, but it gets complicated when one is trying to maintain a schedule for the more ordinary parts of one’s life.” “I can’t begin to imagine,” she agreed quietly.

“Very well. So you wish to learn what it’s like to be sexually submissive. To go into a sexual situation and know that as soon as I lay a hand on you or say a particular word or phrase, you will immediately respond to anything I may ask of you. You will give me total and complete control of what happens between us. You are accepting me as your lover and your Dominant, just as I accept you as my lover and my submissive. Outside of sexual situations, we will set these roles aside and not discuss them with others. It’s our private arrangement.” “I agree.” She squared her shoulders. “Should you, at any time, find what I am doing to be either too painful or uncomfortable, or upsetting in any way, you will speak the word accolade and I will stop everything.” He spoke clearly and somberly now. This was important. “I will immediately cease. You have my promise.” “I agree.” Her eyes were round now, fixed on his face, her body taut with tension. “When we meet for sexual pleasure, you will submit to me, obeying me without question, doing exactly as I ask and holding nothing back. You will put aside who you are and what you do. Your body will be in control of everything that happens to it, your responses will be unhindered, and your inhibitions will be discarded. You will give everything you have -- to me.” He almost heard her indrawn breath, before she spoke. “I agree.” “And in return I shall help you understand the true nature of your sexual desires. I shall do my best to release you from the constraints our society imposes on the interactions between sexual partners. I shall use whatever methods I consider appropriate and will make sure that at all times our play together is Safe, Sane and Consensual.” It was a solemn moment, vows spoken by two people who were ready to embark on a new adventure. Royce had spoken similar words before, many times. They were always accompanied with a little glow of excitement; something that came with the knowledge of what lay ahead for both his submissive and himself. Each sub taught him something new and he eagerly looked forward to what he would learn, enjoying the newness of it, the gentle but firm schooling and eventually the joy as the sub left to join his or her Dom, ready for a relationship that would go so much deeper than the one they’d shared with Royce. This time was different. And Royce knew it. Each time Sophie had agreed, his arousal had ratcheted up a notch. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes and his mind off her sweet swollen pussy. He wanted that flesh with a desire that was turning into an ache. So maybe the first lesson needed to be a relief for both of them. He stood. “Sophie, from now on, you will keep your conversation to a minimum and mostly in response to my commands, unless there is a problem. Do you understand?” She opened her mouth, paused and then just nodded.

“Good girl.” He moved to stand in front of her. “As you can see, my cock is hard and causing me some discomfort. Relieve me with your mouth.” Her gaze slithered down his body to his erection. And halted. She licked her lips -- and he felt it like a bolt of lightning down to his toes.

Chapter Four

Sophie was more than ready for this. Her rational brain knew that mind games constituted so much of the D/s lifestyle. Waiting, wondering…anticipating…each played a role in the experience and heightened it. But she hadn’t realized how powerful these emotions were until she found herself kneeling with spread legs before her new Master. Her pussy throbbed, she knew she was wet with her own liquids, and every fiber, every nerve cell in her body, was tuning itself to the man in front of her. She could have damn near eaten him whole. Sucking his cock was a mere hors d’oeuvre at this point. She stared at the erection just inches from her nose. Okay, revise the hors d’oeuvre thing and replace it with a good-sized dinner entrée for two. The man was, to use a colloquialism, hung. She licked her lips, an involuntary response to the sight of all that male goodness hovering so close. She was unsure, not knowing what he liked, whether she should touch him or just his cock or -- she simply had no clue. “Just do what you want, Sophie.” His hand reached out and touched her head, guiding her nearer. “It will give me pleasure.” His tone was calm and quiet, yet she was pretty sure there was a lot more tension in his body than his manner revealed. So she obeyed. She did what she wanted. Her hands slid to his thighs, gripping the hard flesh firmly as she gently kissed the swollen head. A delicate touch of her lips that produced the tiniest tremor, something she might have missed had she not been in such a state of heightened awareness. Yes, she was obeying, but yes, she was also giving him pleasure and reaching him on some fundamentally sexual level. He was nowhere as near to clinical observation as he might like her to believe. With that thought uppermost in her mind, Sophie parted her lips and took him into her mouth. Hard, so hard, yet his skin was tender against her tongue. She had always been amazed at the textural contrasts to be found in a man’s penis. One day she might do a photographic essay and try to reveal them in all their intricacies. But for right now, sucking one deep into the back of her mouth was more than enough. He was huge, no two ways about it. She couldn’t take much of him without feeling that gag instinct kick in, so she compromised, running her tongue over every bit she

could reach, and then pulling back so that she could slick her saliva over the parts she couldn’t suck inside. Soon he was warm and shining from her mouth and she risked a touch to his balls, large sacs, denuded of hair, as was his entire pubic area. It was interesting, cupping them, rolling them gently in her palm as she continued to tongue his cock and tease the tiny spot beneath the head she knew would be extra sensitive. He sighed a little and shifted as she caressed him, parting his thighs even more in encouragement. She continued her explorations, pausing with one hand gripping his cock tightly to venture a soft warm slick of lips and tongue around his balls. She wanted to suck them, to take this uniquely male flesh into her mouth. But she wasn’t sure how he’d feel about teeth that near his family jewels. So she contented herself with her delicate caresses, all the while holding his erection, moving her hand fractionally to keep his arousal cooking. Not that there was any problem there. If anything, he grew even harder as she worked him. Clearly she was doing something right. As was he. When it came to control, Sophie realized he had truly earned the title of Master. She must have spent many minutes with her mouth on his genitalia, more time than she’d ever spent before when it came to blowjobs. And yet he seemed immune. He was rock-hard, aroused and displaying all the signs of a man ready to shoot his load. But he didn’t. She was impressed. He didn’t press her head onto his cock, grab her hair or moan. Not even a grunt. Even when her fingers strayed behind his balls to find that little spot that most men responded to with a yelp -- nothing. He was a statue, a warm-blooded living statue, and the fact there was a woman between his legs sucking his erection…well, she might have been polishing the floor for all the reaction she was getting. The only subtle clue she observed was a slight shiver, almost as if his skin was stretching or tightening beneath her fingers. If she wasn’t touching his thighs she didn’t notice it, but since she was on her knees and steadying herself, his leg was as good a place as any to hang on to. When she did, when she had a hand free and used it for balance, that’s when she sensed it, felt that tiny little change in the surface beneath her fingers. And it was enough to encourage her to continue. To redouble her efforts to swallow him whole. Her head moved rhythmically as she sucked, her tongue flittered around his length, darting and toying with the swollen head. One hand set up a similar caress to his balls and the other, when she wasn’t hanging on to his thigh, well that was free to massage the base of his cock or slip around his body and dig into a solid buttock. She was obeying. He’d told her to do what she wanted, and she was. “Very good, pet. Very good.”

He spoke at last, his voice still calm, but with something that might be an edge beneath the words. She felt his fingers clasp her hair and pull her head away from his cock. A drop of saliva lingered, connecting her mouth to his body, man to woman, a gleaming strand erotically dangling between them. Sophie daringly raised her eyes and saw that he watched, his gaze on that wet shining link uniting them. Then he moved and looked at her. “Stand.” His hand urged her upward and she managed not to groan as her knees unkinked themselves. “Through there is a bedroom. Go in and wait for me. Put the handcuffs on your wrists -- they are simple ones and you will see how they work. Then put the blindfold on. Make sure it’s secure because I will check. After that, lie on the bed, face down and wait for me.” Sophie opened her mouth to ask any one of the thousand questions that trembled on the tip of her tongue. But one look at his face reminded her that he was now her Master. She would do as he obeyed. The thrill of realization shook her to her core. Lowering her chin, Sophie dropped her eyelids and focused on her toes as she nodded. “As you wish, Master Royce.” Without risking another look at him, she turned and crossed the room to the door he had indicated. It was exactly as he’d described -- a simple bedroom, a guest room perhaps, tidy and mostly unadorned. The bed, head against one wall and the rest of it in the center of the room, surprised her. It was small, perhaps full sized at most, and yet it was framed by a very solid pine four-poster. There were ornate designs carved into the wood and many wrought iron decorative additions. Sophie wondered if Royce had made it himself, since his talent with ironworking would lend itself to this kind of thing. If he had, then he was seriously neglecting a source of income, because such exquisite custom work would command some hefty bucks. On the plain spread was a set of handcuffs and a mask. Her sex quickened and heated as she touched them, then tentatively snapped one around her wrist. It was lined with sheepskin, so there would be no risk to the wearer. Dangling from the lock was a sturdy chain with a D-ring at the other end. The snaps were easy to work and Sophie had to wonder how hard it was to get out of something that looked so simple. She wasn’t sure if she’d been expecting police-issue steel, but this leather and fuzz didn’t seem to offer much in the way of restraint. The mask was easy too, a soft piece of leather shaped to cover the eyes and fasten snugly around the head. It blinded her very effectively, the design fitting her and conforming to the contours of her face. She truly could not see. But she knew where the bed was, so -- with her hands carefully extended before her -- she stepped to it and managed to lie on it, face down as Royce had instructed.

It was quiet, silent even. The windows were closed, of course, and the air conditioner a subtle hum. Above her a ceiling fan rotated lazily, doing little more than breathing a gentle draft. But since she was nude, that draft was more of a subtle caress up and down her body. As she’d surmised, being masked heightened her other senses. It was natural…deprive a person of one sense and the others hyped up to compensate. No surprise there. But what did surprise her was the level of her sexual arousal. She was lying naked, face down on a strange bed, blindfolded and with handcuffs on her wrists. She was vulnerable, something she wasn’t sure she’d manage to handle. And yet every inch of her sex was tingling, alive, waiting for the right touch. The quilt beneath her abraded her nipples and she knew they were hard. As she took each breath they rubbed against the fabric and added their own stimulation. She tried to imagine how she must look, her ass bare, her back to the ceiling, her arms beside her. And again, it was a thought that stroked something deep inside her pussy. She was one quivering sex nerve right now and if he didn’t get in here soon and do something about it… She listened, straining her ears for any sound from Royce or from the rest of the house. But like many homes in the area, large portions were carpeted, and even if the entire house had tile floors, he was barefoot. She had no idea where he was or what he was doing. She just wished he was there doing her. Simmering, torn between lust and impatience, Sophie realized that it had to be dark. She couldn’t see, but she’d been out of her cage for a couple of hours and it had been late afternoon when she’d arrived. So, putting two and two together and arriving at nighttime, yes it was dark. There was a sharp sound, the smell of matches and then the hiss of flames. She jumped a little in surprise. “I am lighting a few candles. I like to look at a woman in candlelight. You will remain still.” Sophie did as he ordered, her heart thundering in her chest. She detected movement…he was going to the other side of the bed. There was another match struck, another candle lit. Two maybe. The delicate scent of jasmine tickled at her nostrils. It was one of her favorites and she recognized it immediately. There was also an undertone of something that might have been sandalwood…she wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, she was delighted to know that her Master enjoyed the subtle effects of fragrance as much as she did. Drifting a little in the sensual miasma of perfumed candles and nudity, it came as a shock when Royce’s hands gripped her ankles and pulled her down over the end of the bed. He dropped her feet and seized one wrist, pulling her arm away from her body. She felt a snap as he locked the chain from the handcuff onto something. Probably one

of the wrought iron ornaments. She wished she’d examined them more closely as he repeated the action with her other arm. Then she felt his touch on the back of her head as he checked the fit of the blindfold. She was pulled, her arms out and chained to the bedposts. There was a little leeway for movement, but not much. “Spread your legs.” She shuffled, still unsure of her position, trying out the cuffs and biting down on more than a few nerves. “I said spread your legs.” A foot kicked hard at one of hers, pushing it wide and knocking her off balance. She gasped and quickly moved the other foot. “I expect obedience.” Sophie shivered. That was the voice of a Master. Harsh, edgy and more than a little menacing. “When you are disobedient, I shall let you know.” He paused. “Like this.” Sophie’s brain blanked out as something hard slapped one of her ass cheeks with a sound that echoed around the room. She wanted to cry out, but instead she bit into the quilt beneath her masked face. Master Royce slapped her again, this time across the other buttock, and repeated the slaps, his rhythm steady, his control obvious. Her skin stung, tears fell into the mask and her entire world narrowed down to the fiery pain radiating from her ass to her sex. Her nipples ached as the force of his blows pushed her up against the quilt. Unable to hold back the sound, she moaned. And realized she was trembling on the edge of an orgasm. The moment she hit that point, that awareness…he stopped.

*~*~*~* She was getting to him, big time. Nothing he’d had Sophie to do him, or anything he’d done to her up to now, had differed from his normal routine. This was how he introduced a submissive to her new state and helped her become accustomed to obeying the commands of her Master. So why, he asked himself, why was he so hard he hurt? Why did he want to drop everything, push aside years of training, and simply fuck her brains out? What the hell was it about Sophie Lewis that resonated someplace inside him he didn’t even know was there? Having her mouth suck his cock was a thrill in and of itself, but he’d put that unusual surge of lust down to the fact that she was everything he found appealing in a woman. Nicely rounded, intelligent, blonde and naked. Yeah, it was simplistic, but sometimes everyone overthought things. Especially when it came to sex. However, that sensation of excitement, above and beyond his normal enjoyment, had followed him into the bedroom. Seeing Sophie face down, with that glorious ass

ripe and ready…well, shit. His cock had gotten impossibly hard and he’d fought a minor war with his instincts. Fortunately, he’d won. Initiating her into a spanking had refocused his attention and although he hadn’t lost his erection it was a bit easier to manage. Although even now, he had a hard time dragging his gaze away from her reddened ass cheeks and the intriguing shadows separating them. He stopped the spanking as soon as he saw the twitches in her muscles. It was a distinct signal that she was close to her orgasm, especially since her pelvis was moving forward, thrusting down into the quilt. Time to distract her again, keep her off balance. And perhaps restore some to himself while he was at it. He put the leather slapper aside. It was his own design and he’d found it worked perfectly every time. He could control the force -- with Sophie he’d been very gentle, even though her skin was red and probably stinging right now. He preferred it as an introduction, rather than the more customary flogger. That would come in time. But now, to introduce something different. He walked away from the bed and opened a drawer in the slim bureau on one wall, knowing she was listening to his every move. It took but a moment to find what he needed, and as he shut the drawer firmly, he watched her response -- little more than a twitch, but it showed she was still paying attention. She was good. No, make that something else. Beyond good. Pretty fucking amazing, all things considered. He returned to stand between her outspread legs and uncorked a small bottle, pouring liquid into his hand. “You have not used your safe word yet, Sophie. Nod if you are all right.” She nodded immediately. “Good. I am very pleased with you.” He rubbed his palms together and reached for her ass. “You might find this pleasant. If you do, you may signal that by making whatever sounds you like.” He began to gently rub the scented oil into her reddened skin, knowing it would be cool and soothing. “Ohhh…” He continued, stroking the firm mounds, squeezing them, rubbing them firmly and massaging the oil everywhere. He stretched them apart, knowing she was aware he’d be looking at her anus, a place not usually on display. He let his thumbs slide from the base of her spine down her cleft and past her swollen pussy lips, taking pleasure in the way her moisture mingled with the oil. She moaned again, her skin now supple and almost flowing against his hands. Fingers shining with oils, he continued his delicate attentions. Then he pulled her cheeks apart and thrust one thumb inside her. She squeaked loudly, her muscles clenching around his intrusive digit, her body taut and trembling. “Be quiet.” He used his open palm to slap her, while keeping the finger inside.

She immediately subsided, but he could hear her labored breathing. “If I want to finger your ass I will. If I want to fuck your ass, I will. I am your Master and your ass now belongs to me. Nod if you understand.” Slowly, Sophie’s head moved. Gently, Royce removed his finger. “Good.” Slowly he began inserting a small plug he’d lubricated. “This is a butt plug. I wish you to wear it for a while. Once it is in place, you will be aware of it, but it should not be painful in any way. Should it hurt, you have my permission to speak. If it does not, you will remain silent.” He eased the toy into Sophie, making sure his progress was gentle but firm. He did not want to cause pain. Not yet. Being a Master meant that his control needed to be established, his submissive responsive to his slightest command. He did not believe that causing pain was the way to go about it. Never had and never would. A spanking wasn’t pain, it was foreplay if it was done right. Butt plugs were unusual, but not risky or dangerous. There were a million nerve endings in the anus that most women had no clue about, so Royce felt he was educating a submissive every time he used them. To date, nobody had ever refused them or asked he not use them again. Finally the plug was in place, the shape of it conforming to her anal muscles. “Very good. I am now going to unlock the cuffs and you will turn onto your back.” She was immobile beneath his hands as he freed her. Cautiously she moved, her feet scrabbling a little for hold on the carpet, her back bending as she switched positions. He guided her hand to the post again. He didn’t need to say anything. She knew he’d be fastening her wrists once more -- in fact she held out her arms in readiness. Her pussy was prominent, her scent rich and flowering from the moisture dappling her swollen folds and smooth thighs. Although Royce had found he preferred a shaved mound, he realized he might make an exception for Sophie. The small neat tuft of white blonde hair was almost like an aura around her pink sex. He found it indescribably attractive. The man in him wanted to bury his face there and suck her insane. The Master in him frowned and told him to bide his time. Everything he could see was his. She was submitting like an expert, her entire body radiating eagerness for whatever he chose to do to her or have her do next. There was no hurry at all. So, telling the annoying voices in his head to shut the fuck up and let him go at his own pace, Royce ignored the aching scream of his cock and continued the process of Mastering his newest submissive. He also ignored his strong premonition that this woman was going to be one huge bucket of trouble.

Chapter Five

The sensations poured through Sophie in a cascade of erotic arousal. Already wet, hot and aching, her entire body shuddered at the unique intrusion of something rubbery up her ass. It was as different as it was unexpected, and she spared a second or two to examine the sensation. It was…not exactly comfortable, but it didn’t hurt. She had an embarrassing urge to push it out with her rectal muscles, but forced herself to relax and as soon as she did, everything sort of settled back down into place. And the slight stretch of those previously untouched places…well, a frisson of excitement shimmered through nerve endings and landed smack dab in the center of her sex. She almost ignored Royce as he refastened her restraints, so focused was she on her own ass. The slightest twitch reminded her of the butt plug, and when he had her arranged to his liking and took his hands off her, she trembled. Blind and bound, she was helpless, relying on her other senses for information. Her thighs were wet and her pussy lips felt huge as the cool air from the ceiling fan blew around her body. She could smell her own arousal over the perfumed candles and now she could even detect Royce’s scent, musky and male, as he positioned her thighs wide apart. “You have a lovely pussy, Sophie. It pleases me.” She tried not to jump as his hand came down and stroked her from mound to anus, softly, like he was petting a kitten. Again, that tiny tremble shook her, jittering down along her legs and back up her body to her arms and out to her fingertips. She felt the bed move a little, and then firm hands cupped one breast. “These are beautiful too. Full. Womanly.” He teased them carefully, seeming aware of how sensitive she was and how her nipples instantly responded to the lightest touch of his fingertips. “Breathe in for me.” She sucked in a breath just as something bit down on one sensitive bud. Her breath came out on a sharp squeak. “These are tiny nipple clamps. They are not designed to cause pain, just increase sensation. Nod if you understand.” She nodded, swallowing convulsively as he affixed a clamp thing to her other breast as well. “Good girl.” Her pussy got another tender pat. “You are obeying very well, Sophie.” A little glow warmed its way through her heart at those words. She was pleasing her Master and right now, that was all that mattered. The desire to accomplish that, to be a good submissive, had begun to ride hand-in-hand with the desire for sex.

She sighed, knowing that more was to come. That she was finally on the path to real sexual pleasure and fulfillment. She waited, her body alive and tingling in every single nerve ending. She was splayed nude before her Master, a slave ready to give pleasure to him in whatever way he desired. And she waited. There was silence for at least a minute or two -- what seemed like an eternity to the naked, bound woman. Then something touched her pussy. Something velvety soft and warm. She sighed with pleasure, instantly realizing he was rubbing his cock against her wet sex. She squirmed -- an involuntary invitation. She was hot and ready. He was hard. Nature needed to take its course. But apparently Master Royce wasn’t about to surrender to nature or anyone else. He wanted to play. Where was he? Oh, there…his tongue flicked at one nipple, teasing it to painful tension within the clamp. He might not think that hurt, but there was a sting. She moved in response only to have her ass remind her that it was full of butt plug. The other nipple got some attention, a little sharper this time, as if he was tugging on whatever it was he’d clamped to her. Every touch, every movement, every caress of her Master’s fingers or cock or even his breath -- sent her higher. Sophie lost touch with anything concrete. She found herself drifting, her mind struggling to think coherently, her body ruling every single second, every heartbeat. Her Master kept up the erotic assault, now with his cock against her delicate inner thighs, rubbing itself through her juices. Then his mouth on her hipbone while his hand stroked her pussy lips and pressed against her clit. They were all quick touches, gone before she had chance to fully enjoy them. Then his mouth came down on her mound and his tongue found her. Her thighs were pushed wide by strong hands, almost to the point of pain. Yet whatever pain there was immediately dissipated as he sucked hard, teeth abrading tender flesh, lips working her, toying with her, bringing her closer and closer. And once more -- stopping. The need was rising inside her, a tide of lust, of hunger, of desire. She ached, and that was a pain she welcomed. Her breasts felt huge, her pussy wept hot tears and she would have done anything at all, truly anything, to get her Master’s cock inside her. Once again he suckled her, then pulled away and this time she couldn’t restrain the sob erupting from her lungs. “What do you want, Sophie?” Master Royce spoke near to her body, his breath heating her skin. “You.” She whispered the response. “What do you want from me?”

“Your cock. Inside my cunt. Please, Master.” There was no shame, no hesitation. Brutal honesty was the only option for Sophie now. “Are you sure?” He teased her clit with the tiniest of little rubs, his cock rigid against her fire. “Wouldn’t you rather I fuck you up the ass? Where you’re clenching yourself so tight right now?” Sophie fought for breath. “Anywhere, Master. Please...” She shifted her hips, again offering herself without words. “Or maybe you’d like me to fuck you with my tongue. To make you come around my face as I suck your juices.” God, she had no idea if she could take much more. “I must decide, I suppose. You are mine, Sophie. Every inch of your body, from your toes to your head. That includes your sex. I can have you, take you, any way I choose. Do you understand me?” Beyond speech, Sophie nodded. She swore she could hear his skin as he moved around her. She was alive in ways she couldn’t explain, could never have imagined. She floated, drifted, aching, her body empty and waiting -- for her Master. “It’s time, then.” His hips grazed her inner thighs, and the touch was like flame to tinder. She spread her legs as wide as she could, her arms tense against the restraints, her mouth open as she panted. There was no bed, no room, no secluded house just outside Tampa. There was no Sophie Lewis anymore. There was a Master and his submissive. And the urgent, viciously savage need to fuck. Suddenly he was in her, pushing his way past her pussy lips into the hot wetness within. He was big, stretching her as he entered, adding that sensation of fullness to the one already present around the butt plug. His progress was slow but inexorable. There was no thrusting here, no impatience or more usual male need to get as far in as quickly as possible. No, for Master Royce there was just a steady penetration. And for his submissive there was a building volcano of pleasure. When it erupted, she wasn’t sure she’d survive.

*~*~*~* Entering Sophie’s body was one of Royce’s most amazing life experiences. The process of rendering her submissive had taxed his control to its limits and now, sliding into the lava-hot flesh and seeing her shining swollen pussy lips welcoming his sheathed cock…well, he was way past any limits he could have envisioned for himself. He’d been right. She was different to any sub he’d trained before. Her body was alluring, her spirit fresh and eager. She was willing to submit without reservations, something he’d not expected to find. Seldom did a first time sub go to the place Sophie had reached right now.

She was masked, but he knew if he looked into her eyes he’d find them vague and unfocused. She was adrift in that strange place called headspace, a sensation unique to each individual. Some likened it to a runner’s high, a seething and uncontrollable rush of endorphins throughout the body. Others had commented that it wasn’t unlike the smooth hit of a really good liquor -- or other substances, some of them illegal. Everyone seemed to have their own response, their own way of describing the indescribable. And to have a sub go there her first time out…well, it was a tribute to both her ability to let go, and to him as her Master for encouraging her. All these thoughts swelled within his mind and he was aware of each and every one. Part of his skill as a Master was the ease with which he separated the rational from the physical. It was essential, he believed, for a good Dom to enjoy sexual relations, and yet he had to remain alert to his sub’s behavior. A Dom controlled her for good reason. Subs were known to ignore their own limitations, either when in headspace or in a desire to please their Doms. But today, here with Sophie, Royce found all his much-vaunted expertise as Dom and Master being subdued, and replaced by the sheer male joy of fucking an incredible woman. It shocked him, scared him more than he wanted to admit, and was something he needed to evaluate thoroughly. But not right at this minute. Not when he was sinking ever more deeply into her fire, bathing his erection in the searing silk of her cunt. She boiled around him, heat unlike anything he’d felt before. She stretched to accept him, tiny muscles clasping him, tugging his cock further inside. She moaned and whimpered, probably unaware of the sounds she was making, moving in tiny little jerks to better accept him. She was, to put it succinctly, incredible. And Royce had never felt anything quite like this. His cock filled her and he sensed that to push any more might cause her pain. So he eased himself back, letting the wondrous embrace of her inner muscles ripple their erotic massage along his cock. Again and again, always slowly, always steadily, he moved forward and then withdrew, watching her body, listening to her breaths and doing his best to control his own need to come. It was a battle that brought sweat to his forehead and he shook the drops away, realizing that Sophie was sweating too. Her moans had quieted to an occasional sigh, as if she was also lost in the truly amazing sensation of cock and cunt doing what nature intended. And doing it so perfectly. He could sense the plug in her ass, a harder and less flexible place within her. And he knew she could feel all of these things. Her entire being would be focused on where they were joined. If a mosquito landed on her pussy, she’d scream blue murder. A strange grin twisted Royce’s lips as he slid into her once again. This rhythm was certainly effective, but he was only human. Stick a man’s cock into a woman and start working it…there were inevitable results.

He stopped a few more times, biting down hard on his own needs, making sure Sophie was still with him and still flying in her own universe. A brief slick caress of her clit, either with the slippery head of his cock or his finger gently circling it -- no more than that and she rose once again to tremble and pant beneath him. Eventually, he knew he could take no more. “It’s time, Sophie.” He whispered the words, more for himself than for her. Whether she even heard them, he didn’t know. He picked up the pace, pushing a little more forcefully now, going deeper than before and making sure to hit the right spots with each move. She moaned and then cried out softly, her breath fast and labored as he drove her as high as he could. Electricity darted along his spine just as she twisted beneath him and her face locked into a grimace of desire. Now was the time -- now was the moment. He leaned forward and quickly removed the tiny nipple clamps, knowing the hot pain of the suddenly free nerve endings would push her way over the edge. She screamed, raw and harsh, her body going immediately into orgasmic spasms. Royce thrust deep, his cock brushing the mouth of her womb. And he came, great gushes of semen filling the condom, milked by the savage muscular contractions of her cunt along the length of his cock. He was blinded by the experience, losing himself in his own version of headspace, marveling at the sensation of emptying all that he was into Sophie, and the way she was urging him on to greater heights rather than the other way around. He couldn’t help it. He let go a roar of completion, a pure and elemental male noise that echoed through the silence and shocked him. He became aware that Sophie had lifted her legs and locked them around his hips, holding him tightly inside her as she rode out the storm. He felt himself empty and soften, and yet still she orgasmed, the slightest move of his cock stimulating another round of spasms. Hoarse and sweaty, she whimpered, still keeping him inside, legs taut and ankles digging into his back. Taking a breath, he watched her, then leaned over and unfastened her blindfold. Her eyes were closed, her face still contorted as another orgasm rocked her, this one a little gentler than before. She was coming down, slowly and awkwardly, but she was coming down. How long they stayed locked together, he didn’t know. Nor did he care. Because this moment, this amazing instant of time -- was proving to be beyond his ability to describe or evaluate. He felt as if he could easily spend a lifetime watching this woman in the throes of orgasm. Her skin changed as the sensations rolled through her and Royce believed he could almost see an aura of sexual pleasure float above the silky sweaty textures sheening her belly and hips. Her breasts were swollen, the nipples bright red as the blood flowed freely through them once more. They were perfect breasts, full and round, just the way he liked them.

They were made for a man’s hands and a man’s mouth. And would serve to nurse a child just as well. To Royce’s shock, a tiny shock of arousal jolted his cock at the thought of Sophie nursing a baby. His baby. Jesus fucking Keeeerist. More confused than he’d been in a decade, Royce gently disengaged from Sophie’s body, reaching behind him to unlock her ankles. Once free, he dealt with the condom and then returned to remove her restraints. He had to smile as a soft snore greeted him. She had finished with her session of multiple orgasms. And was out like a light.

Chapter Six

Sophie opened her eyes and for a few moments had absolutely no idea where she was. Then the memories flooded back and she realized she was tucked snugly into the bed she’d been chained to just a short while ago. Absently she felt her wrists and yes, the cuffs were gone. So, apparently, was the butt plug. Although how on earth Royce had removed that without waking her…well, she’d always been a sound sleeper. Obviously she hadn’t known exactly how sound that was. Ignoring the urge to immediately get out of bed, she stretched beneath the covers and settled her head comfortably, paying no attention to the aches and irritations that signaled a night of amazing sex. Amazing was the right word. She had chosen to be a submissive in an attempt to learn about herself and her body. In one night, with Royce, she’d discovered the true meaning of ecstasy and had been fucked like she’d never been fucked before. It had thrown every preconceived notion about sex out the window. She’d hit a place where there was no Sophie, and no Royce. Where the only reality was her body, and his. Once she’d gotten there, well…she couldn’t describe it, not even to herself. It was beyond extraordinary. Like being thrown into a waterfall where every drop was a sexual caress. Like floating down that waterfall knowing the bottom would be even more amazing. And coming, climaxing, for what felt like hours on end. Being able to feel every single tiny twitch, every drop of liquid her sex spilled over him. Being able to draw him so deep she didn’t know where she ended and he began. Being focused, unable to use her hands, forced to let everything go and surrender, submit to her Master as he fucked her into oblivion. It was exactly what she wanted. It was perfect. It was fucking scary, is what it was. A pressing need to pee made itself known, and with a groan Sophie extracted herself from the cocoon she’d created in her sleep. Naked, she walked unsteadily to the small guest bathroom and woke up even more as she took care of her body’s basic needs. A hairbrush and some simple toiletries were welcome, since she realized after one glance in the mirror that she certainly looked like someone who’d been thoroughly fucked. Actually, it was more like someone who’d been thoroughly fucked after being dragged through a bush backwards.

Her clothes were neatly folded on a hamper, along with a clean nondescript t-shirt. Probably one of Royce’s, given its size. But it was welcome after her shower, since she felt awkward re-donning the leather fetish gear after last night. She settled for the black thong beneath the t-shirt and felt relatively comfortable. It was Florida, after all, and the shirt fell to her thighs like a dress. She lingered, knowing she was postponing the inevitable. To judge from the light coming through the frosted glass windows, it was early yet, but definitely morning. Royce would have to go to the Faire today, and she had to go home. How she was going to get there, she wasn’t sure, because she’d left her car in the parking lot. Ah well, it would work out. Ever optimistic and with the sense that she might well be walking about six inches off the floor this morning, Sophie walked from the bathroom and headed back toward the sunroom where she and Royce had first entertained each other last night, hoping to find him there. And those six inches disappeared in a hurry when she found it empty. “Hello? Master Royce?” She frowned at the silence. “Hey. In here.” The words came from what she figured must be the kitchen, so she wandered down a passageway and found -- not Royce, but a young man busily working over a cooking surface. The fragrance of pancakes hit her nose hard and she realized she was starving. “Hi. I’m Sonny.” He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two. “Nice to meet you, Sonny.” Sophie was more than a little confused. “Is Master…er…is Royce here?” Sonny shook his head. “Nope. Up and gone. He has prep work to do at the Faire, setting up the forge, getting it hot and making sure he’s got all the stock he needs.” “Oh.” Her face must have reflected her emotions, since Sonny smiled sympathetically at her. “Don’t worry. He’s made sure all your stuff is here and your car’s outside. He had one of the squires bring it over last night.” “That’s good.” She turned to where he’d pointed his spatula and saw her bag on a small side table. “Here. Eat.” He shoveled pancakes from his pan onto a warming tray and put it on the counter, where Sophie noticed syrup, butter, plates and a coffee pot. “I’m a pretty good cook, even though I say so myself.” Since her stomach chose that moment to let out a loud, demanding gurgle, she was pretty much stuck. Protesting that she wasn’t hungry would be an obvious lie. And, she realized after the first bite, he did make an excellent pancake. “So, do you live here?” She posed the question as he refilled his coffee cup. “No, I have my own place.” He sipped, savored, and nodded. “Good.” Then he served himself a hearty stack of his own creations. “I’m one of Royce’s trainees at the forge and I pop over here now and again to earn some extra bucks doing errands for him. I’m also learning to be a farrier and he’s the best, no question. So being around him is a double bonus. I learn some ironworking to add to my farrier education.” “A farrier, huh?”

“I love horses. I’ve taken a lot of pre-vet courses over the last couple of years, in between jobs, because of the annoying need to do things like eat and pay my rent.” He gave her a sweetly ironic smile that charmed her. In a few years time, this kid was gonna be a killer. “So I’m not a farrier yet. I’ve specialized in the appropriate equine parts, legs and hooves, and you probably know that farriers also tend to deal with injuries and some of the diseases horses get in their feet.” Sophie nodded. “Yeah. I shot a series about local vets a while back. Picked up some of the basics in between lighting the horses.” She grinned as she finished her pancake. “Well, with luck I’ll get into the AFA this year.” He gestured with his cup as she shot him a questioning look. “Sorry. American Farriers Association.” “Okay.” “Having Royce as a mentor is everything I could ask for. And then some.” He flashed a quick grin at her. “As I’m sure you’ve discovered.” To her amazement, Sophie felt color rise in her cheeks. “Well, I suppose so. Yes.” She ignored the sudden shot of electricity that darted through her buttocks. “He’s an interesting man.” “He is that.” Sonny shrugged and put his plate in the dishwasher. “And I’m told he’s an excellent Dominant. But, for the record, I don’t know anything about that side of his life, so you can stop blushing.” “Oh crap.” She laughed and lowered her head. “There goes my modesty.” Sonny laughed back. “The man has excellent taste. I’ll say that for him.” “Why thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.” “Just don’t tell my girlfriend I said it, okay? She’s a bit on the jealous side.” “My lips are sealed.” Sophie mimed zipping up. “You said my car’s here?” “Yes.” Sonny pointed toward the end of the hallway. “Front door leads to the driveway.” “Awesome. You’re a doll and thanks for the breakfast.” She slipped from the chair and picked up her bag. “I’m going to adopt this shirt for a bit. If Royce asks, tell him I’ll get it back to him soon.” “Oh, speaking of…” Sonny moved to a cabinet along the far side of the room. “He left this for you.” Sophie stared at the envelope in the young man’s hand. Her name was scrawled on it, bold and black. “He left this for me?” “Yes. Said to give it to you before you left today.” Something shifted in her belly and Sophie shivered in spite of the sunshine and the heat of what was shaping up to be another roasting hot Floridian day. “Thanks.” She took it and carefully tucked it inside her purse as she grabbed her keys. “You take care. Good luck with the AFA.” “You’re welcome.” Sonny followed her to the front door. “Head back down this road and then take a left when you can’t go any further. That’ll get you back out on the main drag.” She waved the keys at him as a thank-you, and slipped into the comfortable familiarity of her own driver’s seat. Reality was returning, cloaking her, taking her from

what had been an erotic escapade of cataclysmic proportions back to the automatic reflex of fastening her seat belt and checking to see how much gas she had in the tank. Her mermaid air freshener swung from the dashboard as it always did, and her car sounded normal when she turned on the ignition. How could anything be normal after what she’d just experienced? And what was in the letter sitting silently in her purse on the passenger seat? She almost killed the engine and opened it there and then, but after a moment’s consideration she decided to wait until she was home. This whole thing had been intense and more personal than was possible to describe. She wanted to be alone, in her own room, when she opened the letter and read her Master’s words. A nervous shudder tightened her muscles. She hoped they would be positive because if they weren’t…if he rejected her as his sub…she wasn’t sure how on earth she’d survive.

*~*~*~* Royce fell smoothly into his personal rhythm, swing - clang - swing - clang. The hot iron began to assume the shape he wanted, the anvil rang nicely and the blows were perfectly placed. To anyone watching, it would have been the ideal representation of a medieval smith hard at work. In fact, the crowd around him was growing as the sound of metal on stone resounded within some long suppressed genetic memory. All well and good. But in no way reflective of the turmoil inside the blacksmith himself. Royce had watched Sophie sleep for a while after he’d freed her and removed the butt plug from her relaxed anus. She’d moaned a little and turned over, but other than that -- well, he might have been able to fuck her up the ass without waking her. She was that exhausted. Of course, he wasn’t exactly hopping around like a teenager either. He was fit, in good shape thanks to his work, and pretty strong when it came to a long session of fucking on his feet rather than lying down. His aches and pains weren’t physical. They were emotional. He’d looked at her again, in the low light from the guttering candles. Her skin was still soft, now dewed with sweat and scented with her own unique fragrance. Rich, womanly and sweetly spiced with a hint of musk and overlaid now with the tang of sex, he would be able to identify her in a darkened room just by that scent. It was embedded in his brain. Her breasts were soft mounds, nipples relaxed and flat as she slept. Her pussy was still flushed and wet, her curls of white-blonde hair damp with her own liquids. The ones he’d smeared around and played with as he’d claimed her for his own. He’d Mastered Sophie, with every ounce of skill he possessed as a Dominant. He’d helped her submit, freed her of more than a few of her inhibitions, and watched her travel this new path with enthusiasm and excitement.

He’d been inside her, fucking her as she hit headspace, and he’d flown with her through orgasms that now seemed hours in the passing. She’d locked him to her, claiming him even as she submitted. And she was different to every other submissive -- no, make that every other woman, submissive or not -- he’d ever had. Royce swung his hammer, his thoughts far away. He didn’t know exactly what it was that made her different. The Master in him searched for some variation in her responses, some indication that she was too eager or too ready or forcing her reactions. Had she wanted to give him a blowjob? Had she really not minded the butt plug? And had she really felt it when he took off the nipple clamps? Had she pretended any of that? Some submissives did, in their eagerness to please. A good Dom could usually tell, a Master always. Royce knew these were specious arguments. Sophie hadn’t faked a damn thing. And it was that knowledge that had led to a wakeful night. He could very easily have taken Sophie to his room and curled up with her in his massive bed. He wanted to do just that, but he’d fought the urge because it would have violated his personal rules about maintaining his distance from submissives. It had been more difficult than he’d anticipated. Everything about her was appealing. She was all the things he enjoyed in a woman, all the things he found intriguing in a submissive. She was attractive, intelligent, warm and giving. As a man he was responding wildly to her appeal. As a Master he was struggling against her appeal. He wasn’t sure he could reconcile the Master and the man, or even if he should try. He’d not run into this kind of situation before, and several hours of intense meditation had done nothing but give him a mild headache. So he’d finally wrenched himself from his tangled sheets, checked on her once more, and then walked into his office and written her a letter. The words had been difficult, the emotions beneath them turbulent and confused. He wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted, or even what he wanted to say. All the knew was that he absolutely had to have time to think about the situation. The changed dynamics. He had to figure out if he could, in fact, act as Master to someone who had reached him on a completely new level. Of course, being a man, he’d put nothing of that in the letter, but had settled for more platitudes than he’d liked, in an effort to not hurt her feelings. He’d tried to explain that every new Master-submissive relationship needed to be evaluated and that he’d be in touch when he had finished reviewing their night together. He shook his head at himself as he thought over what he’d written. It was scholarly, not sexy. It was professorial not passionate. There should have been a quiz to follow. Jesus H. Christ. He swore beneath his breath as the iron from the forge glowed hot. He’d written her a fucking letter. What was he, ninth grade?

Chapter Seven

Sophie was mad enough to spit nails. Actually, she was mad enough to chew hot iron into the shape of nails and then spit them. “Evaluate the situation,” she yelled into the phone. “Can you believe that? What the fuck am I, Slash, some sort of international incident?” “Jesus, Soph, take a breath.” Susannah McGill, aka Slash, spoke soothingly on the other end of the call. “It sounds like you blew the guy’s mind.” Sophie stomped around her living room, her cell phone to her ear and Royce’s letter crumpled in the other hand. “I blew him, all right. That was my first mistake.” “Christ.” Slash gasped out a laugh. “Okay, so you blew him. You’re not a virgin.” Sophie paused. “In some ways, I was.” She blinked at the bright sunshine streaming in through her living room windows. “I’d never had sex like that before, Slash. Swear to God I thought I was going to die coming.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “I thought I was either going to die or see God or something. I can’t describe it. You have to experience it. I knew I wanted to get into BDSM, I just didn’t know how I was going to respond to it.” “And now you know.” “Yes. Now I know.” Tears blurred and stung. “How can I contemplate going back to anything less? Now that I’ve had…had…” “Royce?” “Yeah.” Sophie sniffed. “Now that I’ve known the hand of a true Master.” Slash cleared her throat. “Er, Sophie-love, you’re talking like a bad romance novel.” “I am?” Sophie swallowed her tears. “Yeah, I guess I am. Sorry.” “Okay here’s the thing. Here’s my take on this.” God bless Slash. She was always down to earth and it made her Sophie’s go-to gal, as well as BFF. “Go ahead.” She slumped onto her couch. “Lay it on me.” “Right.” Slash’s voice was firm. “First, you had fabbo sex. Boo yah. Good for you. You will survive clamped nipples and whatever. Fun, fun.” She paused and Sophie heard the unmistakable sound of a soda can being popped open. “Next, we have the Master thing. You were dominated. Mastered even. Super duper, babe. More power to you.” “Okay.” Sophie nodded and stared absently at her toes, her mind not even registering that she needed to redo her polish. “That brings us to the letter from Royce. He’s not giving you the brush off, sweetie. He’s running scared.” “Scared? Seriously?” “He’d make a rabbit green with envy.”

“You get that from…um…” Sophie scanned the words again. “Here. This bit. I believe our relationship might become complex, so some period of evaluation and contemplation would be wise.” “That bit, yeah. And other bits.” “I don’t see it. He’s looking for an out, Slash.” “Sophie, Sophie.” Slash sighed loudly. “Sit down, shut up and listen.” “I am sitting down.” “Shut up.” “Shutting up.” “Good. Now listen.” Slash continued. “This letter, full as it is of elegantly phrased excuses, is - in my opinion - blatant enough that it would be admissible in a court of law as evidence of a terrified male mind.” Remembering that Slash was a private detective, Sophie didn’t dismiss that statement immediately. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah. Wanna know why?” “Enlighten me.” “Because, oh dimwitted one, nowhere does he actually say I don’t want to see you, so don’t darken my door ever again. This letter is full of excuses why he doesn’t want to see you today. Are these the words of a Master?” “Er…” “Where’s the Dominant, I ask you? Where’s the sorry, but it isn’t going to work, best of luck, love Master, comment? Where’s the I don’t think you will make an adequate submissive, but thanks for the blowjob?” “Slash!” “Just asking. What I’m trying to say is that this letter isn’t from your Master. It’s from the man I believe you touched last night. The smart man with a very good turn of phrase, I’ll agree. But not the sexual Dominant. So if we follow that presumption where do we end up?” “Fucked?” “You were already. Get your mind out of your crotch.” “Sorry.” “No, we end up with a picture of a guy who is, by nature, Dominant. He’s advanced to Master. Bully for him. You can bet the farm he doesn’t dally with his subbies. Masters, as I understand the term, do just that. Master people. If they’re not in full time relationships, they don’t fuck their acolytes, so to speak.” “Hmm.” “Do they? Have I got that wrong?” Sophie thought back to Ann and the shower. “No, I think that’s right. I can’t speak to Royce’s habits, but the other submissive I met wasn’t having that kind of sex with him.” “There’s more than one kind?” Sophie sighed. “There’s the Dominant type of sex, and then there’s the lovers kind of sex. It depends on the dynamics of the relationship.” “You’re starting to talk like a sex therapist.”

“Sorry again.” “You’re forgiven.” “So you think Royce wrote this because he’s confused?” Slash snorted. “I think he wrote it because he’s a coward.” “What?” Sophie sat up as visions of the massive chest and powerful body of her Master flashed in front of her eyes. “You’re kidding.” “Nope. A man who writes a letter like that is dodging issues. He’s a coward. He’s trying to avoid confronting a situation that makes him itch someplace he ain’t got the guts to scratch.” “Uh, lousy metaphor.” “Sue me. But I believe that’s the truth, Soph.” “So let me get this straight.” Sophie glanced down at the creased letter. “What you think he’s actually doing is telling me I’ve scared the crap out of him by getting to him as a woman, not just a submissive?” “On the nose, friend o’mine.” “Funny.” She thought about that. “Ironic too.” “Really?” “Yeah. Because he’s gotten to me that way. I want to think of him as my Master, and in some ways I do. But mostly I think of him as a man. A man I want touching me, talking to me, smiling at me.” Retching noises emanated from Sophie’s cell phone. “Gonna go. Gotta throw up a little here.” “Hey. Wasn’t that long ago I listened to you moaning about your twofer ménage, you slut.” “Point.” Slash sighed. “How do we get ourselves into these messes?” “I dunno.” Sophie closed her eyes and sighed. “Just lucky, I guess.” The conversation continued for a while longer, but Sophie found it harder to concentrate. Finally she called a halt, traded affectionate insults with Slash and hung up. And then she lost herself in thought. She re-read the letter, and thought some more. Her conclusion, at the end of several hours of thinking, interspersed with diet soda and trips to the bathroom, was that she had to either respond to this letter as his submissive, which meant do nothing and wait for the Master to summon her, or… Act like a woman seriously attracted to a man, and figure out the Dom-sub stuff later. Once she’d identified the two paths she saw available to her, it was a no-brainer. Monday was a holiday in Florida, and the Faire would be extended for an additional day to capture everyone enjoying a day off work courtesy of several dead Presidents. Perfect!

*~*~*~* Even though the day was overcast, there was still that sense of excitement in the air among the crowds gathering to enter the Renaissance Faire. The heat had abated

somewhat, but Sophie noticed one or two costumed guests sweating and didn’t envy the women their corsets. Nor did she miss her leather submissive outfit. Today she was dressed for comfort in khaki shorts with plenty of pockets, a peacock blue tank top and her favorite sandals. Most of her stuff was stashed in those pockets, since photographers learned very quickly that the right shot might be missed while fumbling in a large bag for the right lens. She had her small camera on a strap around her neck, her wallet buttoned at her hip and her cell phone on her belt. She had sunglasses, strong ones, perched on her nose and her hair was pulled up into a knot, out of the way. She wasn’t going through the portals into the past to attract anyone. She was going through to fight a battle. And she intended to win the prize. Or at least get at the truth. One way or another, Royce Harper was going to get his Dominant ass kicked, Master or not. The closer she got to the forge, the more nervous she became. And she took those nerves and fed them to the anger simmering inside. It dulled the pain a little, and stifled the fear that she was about to make a major idiot out of herself. She had admitted that perhaps she was reading more into that letter than was there. She was human, she’d spent a night of incredible bliss with a man she was very attracted to…and she wanted more. Much more. She knew, without question, that there was a vast arena of new sensations out there, and she believed that Royce could take her into it. She also believed that perhaps she could take him somewhere new as well. His care of her, his participation, everything had screamed involvement, but then again she’d never been fucked by a Master before. Perhaps this was par for the course, the usual way he did such things. But then she remembered his touch and had to believe it was different. Slash’s wisdom notwithstanding, Sophie wondered if she could stand it should Royce actually come right out and reject her. Rationally, she knew she wouldn’t die on the spot. But emotionally, she was afraid that something inside her might. Hence the fact that her steps slowed as she approached the sound of hammer and anvil. He was there, naked to the waist, swinging one arm high, muscles bunching and releasing in time with the clang of iron on metal. Tiny damp strands of hair curled around his ears and his stance was one of concentration, his gaze fixed on the blade taking shape on the anvil. She stood for a while and watched him, marveling at his power, looking at his hands and realizing he had used them to spank her ass. He could have left so much more than a stinging, arousing heat. His control was truly amazing, and only now that she’d shared an intimate night of sexual adventure with him did she appreciate the level of restraint he must have achieved. Yeah, he truly was a helluva man.

An opinion shared by the women who had quietly gathered in a group, just to watch and admire the amazing sight of a purely lovely male animal hard at work. There was something very elemental about a man banging the crap out of a harmless piece of metal. But when that piece of metal became a blade, the elemental transformed into the magical. Sophie pulled herself out of the aesthetically pleasing but abstract concepts surrounding transmutation of materials. Next thing she’d be cross-legged on the mulch aligning her chakras and humming meditation noises. Lifting her chin she moved to the front of the crowd and stood silently, waiting for the end of this “performance”. She wasn’t sure when he realized she was there, but she knew -- in some primeval female spot in her brain -- that he was aware of her. A flicker of his eyes perhaps, or a tiny twist of his head that sent tiny sparkles her way. Little rainbow pinpoints diffracting from the drops of sweat dappling his cheek. Her heart rate increased as he slowed the beat of his hammer and paused to examine the new blade. Finally he stepped back, nodded to the squire with the long tongs, and watched as the lad carefully manhandled the blade into a bucket of cold water, where it sizzled and steamed satisfactorily. There was a sigh and a round of applause. And he looked up, directly into her eyes. She knew, at that moment, she’d done the right thing. Because try as he might, the slight smile that curved his lips could not be concealed. Not from her. “You’re a coward, Royce Harper.” She spoke bravely. Not a shout, but loud enough to catch the attention of some of the visitors who were about to leave the area. They stopped, interested to see what was happening. “I am?” He stared at her. “Yes. You know what we could have. I don’t need to tell you of all people. And yet you push me away with a letter that sounds like a professor wrote it, not a man.” “You think I’m pushing you away?” “Yes, I do.” She stepped over the low stone wall and into Royce’s space. It was a challenging move, although it put her at somewhat of a disadvantage, since she now had to crick her neck back to meet his gaze. And that damned beautiful chest of his was inches from her nose. She did her best to ignore it. In fact, she lifted her hand, pointed her finger and stuck it into one pectoral muscle. The warm iron he’d just worked probably felt much the same, but she soldiered on, doing her best not to get distracted. “The least you could have done,” poke, “…the very least,” poke, poke, “…was to talk to me. Why is it men won’t talk?” “You tell him, honey.” “Yeah, you go girl.” Mutters from the women in the crowd encouraged Sophie, as did another tiny flicker at the corner of Royce’s lips. He was amused. She could see the warmth in his

eyes as he stared down at her. This wasn’t a Master, this was a man being confronted by a woman. He was, in his own way, enjoying every minute of it. “What makes you think I won’t talk?” “Because you sent me a letter. A damn letter, Royce. At least it wasn’t a text or an email. I suppose I should be thankful for that, but still. I would much rather you explained yourself face to face. You want to dump me, fine. But have the balls to do it in person.” There was an indrawn breath at her words and everyone waited to see Royce’s reaction. He moved even closer to Sophie, making her feel like she was looking up at a skyscraper. “What the hell makes you think I want to dump you?” She opened her mouth, but he interrupted. “Be quiet for a minute. It’s my turn.” He tossed his hammer to one side, ignoring the dull thud as it hit the ground. “I sent you a letter because sometimes it’s easier to write one’s thoughts than speak them.” “I…” “Stop. I haven’t finished.” Sophie glared at him, but let him go on. “You and I are unique. You’re right. It’s special. And I don’t know what it is, or what it could be. I need some time to work that out. That’s what the letter said, Sophie, and if you’d read it with some degree of attention you’d have figured that out.” “Are you calling me an idiot?” She rose up on tiptoe, fury steaming her vision. “If the shoe fits…” “You…you…” She clenched her fists, unaware of the chuckles, cheers and general enthusiasm of the watching audience. “Sophie.” His voice was sharp, commanding and abrupt. The submissive in Sophie urged her to stand down, and so she did, but not without a growl in his direction. “You’re wrong. And yes, you’re an idiot too.” His gaze was unwavering. “Smack him, girlie.” “Don’t let him get away with that.” The voices echoed around her, but Sophie continued to ignore them. Her focus was all on Royce, always Royce. There was nobody else in her world at that moment. “Why am I wrong?” He stared at her, his face softening, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Here’s why.” And in a move worthy of every romance hero since the invention of cover art, Royce Harper picked up Sophie Lewis, bent her over his arm and kissed the crap out of her. The crowd, as the saying goes, went wild. They went even wilder when Royce pulled his mouth from hers, whispered “hang on”, and neatly plopped her over his shoulder. “Ack.”

Not witty repartee, but the best Sophie could manage, since whatever breath she’d had left after that sizzling kiss had been squished out of her lungs by a shoulder the size of Bolivia. “Roooyccceee…” Instinctively she wailed as she thumped her fists on his back. He walked away from the cheering crowd and into the darkness of the forge area, around to where the wood was stacked. Then, holding her tightly, he lifted a hand and smacked her ass. Even through her shorts it stung. It also turned her on, big time. “Shit, you monster.” She laughed and cursed him. “Put me down.” “Aaah, Sophie…” Royce let her slide down his bare chest and then held her, a position that just screamed for her to circle him with her legs. Which she obligingly did. “I knew you were going to be trouble the first time I laid eyes on you.” “You did?” She wriggled, deliberately positioning her pussy so that it would rub against him. “Yep. You’re a natural submissive with a vibrantly confident personality. How could I not be intrigued?” “So you’re not going to dump me?” He kissed her again then, slowly, lingeringly, making her ache for him. She sucked his tongue, toyed with his lips and threw herself into the embrace. “Why the fuck would I dump something so incredible?” He lowered her just a little so that she could feel the hardness of his cock through his blacksmith’s apron. “Jesus, Royce. I was so scared. Our night was…beyond belief. I couldn’t accept that it would never happen again.” “It was beyond belief. I still have some readjustments to make in my life, Sophie. You’ve screwed with my head.” “Really?” Sophie preened. “Well whaddya know? Tit for tat, Royce. You screwed with my body and spoiled me for any other kind of sex with anyone. Ever.” “Good.” Her pussy was getting damp and her nipples were hard beneath her tank top. Sophie knew she would have stripped and fucked Royce right there, just out of sight of half the visitors to the Renaissance Faire. “I want you. I think I’ll always want you. But one step at a time, I guess?” She smiled at him and dropped a kiss on his chest. “I want my Master, Royce. I want him in bed with me, taking me, claiming me. Making me fly.” “Okay.” His fingers slipped up the leg of her shorts and caressed her buttocks. “And for the rest of the time, I want the man. I want to know you, Royce Harper. Everything about you. I want to talk politics and food and maybe even go on a date. Is that possible? Can you keep the Master in the bedroom and share the man as well?” “That’s what’s been going round and round in my head, Soph.” He hugged her. “I’ve never wanted to be just a man with a woman before. Never had to balance one part of me with another. Not like this.” She sighed. “It might not be easy, but I’m prepared to work at it. What do you say?” She leaned back and looked at him as she asked the question.

“What do I say?” He smiled then, a relaxed and genuine smile, showing the warmth and passion of the man, along with the strength and control of the Master. “I say yeah, Sophie. Oh yeah.” She agreed with him, telling him so with a kiss that promised everything. Sophie prided herself on being a woman who always kept her promises.

THE END

About The Author Sahara Kelly is always happy to explain to editors that her spelling errors aren’t really errors, since she was born and raised in England, where an extra “u” is quite in order. She likes to think it adds colour to her writing. Sadly, it's not a widely held belief, so she'd like you to know she still retains a lot from her English childhood even though you won't see much of it in her stories. Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris' Saint novels and a passion for Monty Python, Sahara's new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, citizenship, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings. (She still cherishes that extra “u” though.) Life in New England became complete with the publication of her first novel just after the birth of her son, and over two decades later she's still writing. Now enjoying the greater freedom offered to authors by the rapidly expanding self-publishing scene, she's looking forward to many more such experiences, both with older favorites and lots of new stories like this one. Being freed of restraints has opened doors--for Sahara and many other writers. There are now no impediments; no obstructions barring the path from writer to reader. Which is, in many ways, exactly as originally intended when that first storyteller sat on a rock outside her cave, tugged her bearskin around her shoulders and smiled at her kids across the open fire with the words “Once upon a time...” (or however it sounded several million years ago.) To find out more about Sahara Kelly and her writing, please drop by her website and visit her at: http://www.saharakelly.com

Since she has jumped into the world of private enterprise literature, Sahara has formed her own little publishing company. You're also welcome to come and check it out at the address below. http://www.skprivatelabel.com She has quite a few books available for your eReaders, novels from various publishers at various prices. Some are older titles re-released at a greatly reduced price for those readers who may have missed them the first time around. Others are brand new from SK Private Label Publications. Please keep an eye on Sahara's website or visit her on Twitter/Facebook. You can stay on top of what’s on the way from her fertile imagination by subscribing to her newsletter or picking up her app for your iPhone or iPad. Yes, there's even an app for Sahara Kelly. Best bet? Subscribe to my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bxPvP and keep up to date with everything going on.

My Renaissance Romance: The book you’ve just read is the third and final installment of my tales set in and around Renaissance Faires. I hope you’ve enjoyed them and had as much fun reading them as I did writing them. And, of course, going to the Faires which inspired them in the first place. All three novellas, One Knight Only, Knights of Pleasure and Rough Knight? will be going into a print anthology soon. Expect to see it available at Amazon some time in February of 2012. It will be titled MY RENAISSANCE ROMANCE, and if you’re a fan of print books rather than eBooks, this is the one for you. In the meantime, I’m off to another literary adventure, so I hope you’ll be back for more of my stories, Best wishes for happy reading, Sahara Kelly