Master of Two: Nascent Love (8 page)

Then there was Margery. Margery was a bright
spot, if anything could be said to be. She stuck with me,
persistent and cheerful, even if I was moody and remote. She was a
nurse at the convalescent hospital where we housed Lori. She
treated my baby sister with the greatest care and gentle
patience.

She wasn't the most beautiful woman I ever
dated—on the outside—but inside she was, by far, one of the most
beautiful people I've ever known. We interacted often and the way
our relationship grew was organic and natural. When we finally
slept together, we were like two friends who had discovered a
treasure together. It turned out that she was a masochist to match
my sadistic streak. Somehow, I think people like us give off
signals that attract each other well before any real intimacy
happens. Margery was what I later came to think of as a “natural
masochist.” Her body required heightened stimulus in order to reach
orgasm. Without such roughness, she could not climax. It was
perfect for me. She was mentally stable, somewhat submissive, and
our proclivities matched like pieces of a puzzle.

She would moan with pleasure if I treated
her harshly. I brought out my riding crop and she smiled as though
I'd given her a diamond ring. The little weals the crop left on her
backside and inner thighs delighted her. She'd preen in front of
the mirror as though robed in silk, not angry stripes.

I remember one night when, laughing like
teenagers, we took my Humvee out to Malibu and made out in the
backseat. The moon turned the sand on the beach a kind of
violet-gray, and the swells and waves had a phosphorescence that,
to this day, seven years later, I remember associated with Margery.
That night washed away the last pangs of my doubts about finding a
mentally-healthy masochist.

We fought our way around the seats until I
could position us with her on hands and knees with me, pants around
my ankles, fucking her from behind. It was rough, uncouth,
incredibly exciting seeing her there. I'd put clamps on her nipples
as we'd begun, and I heard them scraping against the leather seat
with each thrust of my hips against her. Her moans and little cries
of pain and pleasure drove me wild. There was a potent scent, a mix
of leather seats, Malibu surf, and the compelling odor of sex in
the car. My erection lasted a long time that night, the minutes
counted out by each wave splashing on the sand. I finally
ejaculated and I felt like king of the world. Margery was my
concubine. Mine.

The feeling of possessiveness was powerful
and made me want to pound my chest like a gorilla displaying his
prowess.

It was idyllic for a while, but Margery
started clinging a little. Her submissiveness turned into something
more cloying and smothering. And just as I decided to talk to her
about it, she said that she wanted to have children together. I
knew it had to end. After experiencing the tragedy of my baby
sister's long fall into torment, there was no way I could attach
myself to another person that way. It was too much. What if
something happened to a child of mine? No amount of self-discipline
would be enough to prevent me from tearing the world apart.

I couldn't go there. Margery was nearing
thirty-five and so was I. She had to act now to satisfy her
biological clock. And even if we'd continued on without procreating
in the usual way, she'd have wanted to adopt children. I was
adamant that I didn't want that kind of responsibility and
vulnerability.

We didn't have a big fight. We simply
stopped seeing each other. It was amicable, as far as such things
can be said to be.

I drifted emotionally for a time, and then I
met Renee. Beautiful, sensual, submissive and masochistic Renee.
She was twenty-three when we met. I worried about our age
difference at first—after all, I was in my mid-thirties—but after a
while, I realized that we were so compatible that the relationship
was timeless; age didn't matter.

When I first met her, she'd had some
experience with BDSM, but nothing particularly organized. She had
little self-control and a tendency toward a hot temper—a redhead's
curse, I suppose. But the first night, I tested her masochism and
was greatly rewarded. She came with my hands on her, giving her
pain, hurting her sexually. And Renee was—and remains—beautiful.
She has long red hair and blue eyes that sparkle with intelligence.
She knew what she was getting into with me and she went for it
eagerly. I waited a little while before getting her in bed. I
wanted to exert self-control and test her a little more before I
took that step. She was not a one-night-stand quality woman. There
was much more to be had from Renee and I wanted to explore that
leisurely.

Once in bed, though, she was totally
submissive. She had already begun calling me "sir" and "master" and
as I tortured her nipples and clit our first night in bed, she
begged for more. I think she needed the extra stimulus, much like
Margery did, and she was willing to pay for that with submission. I
also think she realized that she could learn something from me
about the mastery of one's self and one's impulses, but it took me
a while to be willing to truly teach her.

My methods were simple. If she misbehaved,
she was punished. Usually, those punishments were non-sexual. I
might deny her things she liked, such as her morning coffee (the
denial gave her a caffeine headache), or dessert after dinner. I
would forbid her from wearing her pretty clothes, or makeup, which
made her feel drab. There was no point in rewarding bad behavior
with enjoyable sex. I saved our sadomasochistic sexual encounters
for the times she was well-behaved. Those times came more and more
and our sex life was full and agreeable.

It took some time, but to this day, Renee
rarely acts foolishly. She's learned her lessons well and I respect
that about her. I care deeply for Renee. It's not in my nature to
say the words she might like to hear, but I let her know of my
affection in the ways I'm able.

We've been together for six years. Last
year, I told her of my interest in taking the contract of another
submissive masochist, Amiko. Renee had admitted that she was
bisexual early on in our relationship. She accepted—no,
relished—the times we brought another woman home to explore
together. I told her about Amiko and I think she was a little
concerned for her place in our world, but as I've mentioned, she's
well-trained. She also trusts me, perhaps the most valuable gift
she could ever bestow upon me. That trust saw her through that
night. I wouldn't turn away from my Renee. She's a part of my life,
my world, and, unless she betrays me in some way, I expect us to be
together for a very long time. Of course, I tease her by
“officially” keeping our relationship on a week-to-week basis. So,
I tell her that I'll keep her for another week after she does
something particularly satisfying. Sometimes she earns two weeks,
but I don’t award those too often. The weeks have consistently been
renewed, and they will continue to be so long as she accepts the
terms we set out.

They went something like this: she will obey
me in all things; she will submit to my will and my judgment in all
things; she will act as my independent agent—my representative—if
it's appropriate; and she will accept my sexual sadism without
hesitation. She agreed to all these stipulations before I took her
on as my…what's the right word? I suppose she's my servant, or
perhaps vassal is a better term. At Boys With Toys, some people
call her my "slave." That's fairly absurd, however. Slavery is
illegal. Servitude is not. To most of the vanilla world, she's my
girlfriend and Amiko is my girlfriend, too. Having two girls with
me when I go out socially might raise a few eyebrows, but at this
point in my life, I don't give a shit. I don't have to explain my
personal life to anyone, so long as I'm not doing anything illegal.
That's how I see it.

Amiko has been with us a year and, although
having two women in the house took a little getting used to—for all
of us—it is working out quite well. Amiko was tentative at first,
and perhaps I spent too much time with her and made Renee
uncomfortable. At the time, my thought was to let Renee deal with
the changes her own way. She did.

My little Japanese cutie needed a little
more TLC. Her previous sadomasochistic experiences left her
foundering a bit. I think she moved from Dominant to Dominant
rather too rapidly. But I don't see that happening with our
relationship.

I should probably say something about the
non-sexual terms of our contract. Both Renee and Amiko live with me
and have their own space, sharing whatever is part of our
household. I give them a stipend every month to spend on what they
like, and their part-time jobs pay them as well. Their money is
theirs to keep. I don't need it and I wouldn't take it if it was
offered. I've also put quite a bit of money into trust funds for
them. If something happens to me or we break up by my choice, the
trust fund money goes to them. I can't say enough that they are not
slaves. They know they're safe and protected in my household, and
their behavior suggests that they're happy with the way things are
going.

Amiko has a mischievous sense of humor and
adorable way about her. Renee is charming and witty in her own
manner, but Amiko has more playfulness about her. She teases, even
taunts. Her eyes sometimes say, "Make me."

My answer to that is always, "No. Go to your
room and think about your behavior."

Like a teenager (which isn't much of a
stretch for her), she sulks as she walks away. I leave her there,
generally for a few hours—once, overnight—and by the time I release
her from her room, she's ready to behave. For a while, anyway. If
she outright challenges me, she gets punished. I withhold her
orgasms, or use a whip on her in a way she doesn't like (that's
hard to do as she's very masochistic). I once figged her, and that
offended her sensibilities and dignity. It's a good punishment, but
I reserve it for the times she's particularly difficult. To make
her squirm, we always keep a fresh finger of ginger in the
refrigerator. Early in our relationship, I learned that Amiko loves
to shop. If I prohibit that for a time, she gets her attitude in
shape pretty rapidly.

Playful challenges aside, I find her amusing
as well as delightful sexually.

Amiko is as much of a masochist as Renee,
but in a different way. Ami likes to show off. If she finds Renee
watching, Amiko is much more dramatic with her little screams and
moans. At play parties, she wails and cries at the smallest pinch
or whack on the rear. When we're alone, she is more genuine. We
were together by the pool one afternoon and I mentioned this to
her.

She knelt beside me. "I didn't realize I was
doing that, Master. Does it displease you?"

"I prefer your honest reactions, Amiko. Even
if they're subdued."

She looked a little disappointed at that.
"Yes, sir."

I tilted her chin up and made her lock gazes
with me. "You must always be honest with me, Ami. Even if you think
it's something I won't like. You need to let me be the judge of
what's okay or not. Got that?"

Her eyes swam with tears. "I'm sorry,
Master."

Amiko's lips are always so tempting. I
couldn't resist kissing her gently. "I know, poppet," I said as I
leaned back away from her and unzipped my shorts. "Show me."

That made her eyes twinkle with something
very unlike tears. "Yes, sir!"

She moved to kneel between my legs and ran
her nails gently down my chest and abs, her full attention on
making me happy. I reached forward and drew up her long, black
hair, wrapping it around my fist and giving it a sharp tug. "Do a
good job, Ami." I wasn't hard, but I was definitely interested.

Lips puckered prettily, she kissed my belly
and ran her tongue down the thin line of hair that led to my cock.
I gave her hair another tug and she cringed. Little movements like
that delight me and my prick was an enthusiastic participant.

Amiko licked the underside and swirled her
tongue around the head. I was rock hard by this time, and didn't
want to play kissing games anymore. "Suck."

She didn't respond verbally, but instead,
took me into her mouth, her tongue wrapping around my cock this way
and that. Soon I was fully in her mouth, and the head of my cock
was against the back of her throat. Ami is not prone to gagging. If
she had been, I wouldn't have bought her contract. That was the one
thing I insisted on when she was being demonstrated to me. She
wasn't allowed to do it to me at that first meeting, of course, but
she did it for the man who had her contract. Ami could deep throat,
and I didn't need to view more than that. She was mine minutes
later. The price was exorbitant, and the contract negotiations
tedious, but I haven't regretted it one minute.

As I sat there in the deck chair, with her
fellating me, I let the sensation pass over me like a cloud shadow.
I was in the shade, the sun, the shade, the sun. Amiko had taken
the training I'd given her and knew what I liked and didn't like.
My cock slipped deep into her throat and I pulled and pushed on her
hair, giving her the rhythm I wanted.

She drew breath through her nostrils, and
there were moments I wanted to feel her struggle for air. The
stiffening of her spine, tight closing of her eyes and the
involuntary fluttering of her hands on my thighs as she fought the
urge not to push away told me she was at her limit. Amiko's mouth
moved faster, her hands worked my balls gently. I pressed her head
down again and waited for the signals that told me she was
struggling. I counted to five and let her up again.

My excitement climbed with every stroke of
her mouth on me. It started off leisurely, but soon it was urgent.
I wanted to come, and I wanted to draw out the moment as well.