Master Stephen
A Totally Bound Publication
Master Stephen
ISBN #
978-1-78430-214-6
©Copyright Natalie Dae 2014
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2014
Edited by Sarah Smeaton
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Burning
and a
Sexometer
of
2.
Marshall Cottage
MASTER STEPHEN
Natalie Dae
Book four in the Marshall Cottage series
I wanted Master Stephen. The thing was, would he want me?
I’d been visiting Marshall Cottage for a while, watching a certain Dom who never seemed to have a sub of his own. He borrowed other people’s, giving them a slap here, a nipple tweak there, seemingly confident and comfortable with himself. But I was shocked to find he wasn’t any of those things—until he took control as a Master.
I wanted him as mine. Would he agree to dominate me? Give me the pain I desired? I aimed to make that happen and couldn’t wait to see how things played out. I’d observed him for long enough. It was time to step up and take what I wanted—and every beautiful bite of pain he was willing to dish out.
Would he also give me the love I craved? A permanent relationship where we shared everything? A girl could hope, couldn’t she?
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:
Coke: The Coca-Cola Company
Chapter One
He was subless—again. And I was Masterless.
I could have been offended that he hadn’t appeared to have seen me over the past few weeks, but I wasn’t. Maybe I wasn’t his cup of tea. Maybe he wanted to go around sampling every other sub he could get his hands and mouth on for a while. Maybe I was just hoping a little too much that he’d notice me.
I’d had my eye on him for a while, and if I hadn’t been coming here for so long, I doubted Mr M would have let me through the front door, knowing I had no Master to meet once I got inside. The same must have gone for Master Stephen—and I knew that was the case because he’d been coming here for as long as I had. Longer, I suspected.
He was sucking a sub’s nipple, her bound to one of the crosses, spectators standing around enjoying the show. I wondered if everyone thought of him as just a tart—and whether he cared if they did. Or maybe he just wasn’t a particularly nice person, hence him having no permanent sub. He might be married ‘out there’ and only came here to indulge in something he couldn’t get at home. So many potential reasons for his behavior, but ultimately, what he did was his business, really. Nothing to do with anyone else so long as he played by the rules.
And as far as I could see, he always did.
The sub on the cross tried to writhe, but she’d been bound so tight she could barely move. Not only was she tied at the wrists and ankles, but her Master had roped her middle. I counted fifteen rotations of rope, and they went from just above her pubes to sit below her breasts. I felt like the hemp chafed
me
, and I experienced the delicious sensation of not being able to move. For a second or two I envied her. I hadn’t had rope play before, but imagination was a powerful thing.
I sighed. One day my Master would come. One day I’d meet the man I was supposed to be with. But something inside drew me to Master Stephen. Perhaps he was the one for me. Or had I just convinced myself that he was the perfect partner because no other had arrived in my life and had wanted to stay? Quite possibly and—as hope had a tendency to do—it had sent me off thinking that fate had planned for us to be together.
I shook off my fanciful musings. After all, it sounded like a load of rubbish even to me. Inside I was a girl longing to be noticed, to have a Master who would take my life in the direction it needed to go. Take
me
where I needed to go. A friend of mine had said that if you went looking for The One you’d never find him, but my answer had been that if you didn’t look, if you didn’t put yourself in the places where a Master would notice you, how the hell were you supposed to meet anyone?
I frowned. It might be time to put myself right in his line of vision—to get eye contact with him—and if he looked away, at least I’d know I was wasting my time. The sad thing was, though, I was prepared to wait however long it took. He might find a new sub, but I’d still wait. Some would say I was bordering on stalker material, but when I knew something deep inside, when I had that feeling…
He was mine. I wanted him. And he wanted me—he maybe just didn’t know it yet.
Go over there. Make him see you—really see you.
I wandered closer to the cross, slipping between two people and jostling others so I came out at the front of the crowd. The sub appeared to be asleep. She’d hung her head, chin to chest, looking for all the world as if she were truly out of it. Master Stephen sucked her nipple so hard it lifted her breast, elongated it, yet she didn’t groan or seem to be getting any pleasure from it at all. Maybe she was in sub-space, that wonderful place where body and mind separated.
Her Master stepped to her side and whispered something. She didn’t react except for the slight flicker of her eyelashes. He plunged four fingers into her cunt, right up to the second set of knuckles, his thumb tip covering her clit. She jolted, came alive, and raised her head to stare at everyone watching, although her eyes were glazed. Master Stephen sucked on and lifted one hand to touch her other nipple. He tugged more than fondled, twisted rather than caressed, and my nipples reacted as though he were doing it to me.
I wished he was.
Her Master shoved in and out of her pussy at quite a speed—with force, too, and I knew that must be how she liked it. Rough and ready, a good old finger fuck and nipple suck. Both Masters played with her until she whimpered and tried to drop her head back, the action stopped by the cross behind her. She wiggled her fingers, clenched then unclenched her hands into fists, and I guessed she was on the edge or had the urge to be involved somehow, to touch the men back. Or perhaps her hands had gone numb, her bindings a little too tight. Either way, the fact that she could hardly move turned me on.
“Come,” her Master said, his voice loud, like he’d intended for everyone in the room to hear him, so that those who hadn’t been watching rushed over to do so. He looked proud of her—it seemed he wanted everyone to witness her orgasm.
He pushed his fingers—all four of them—in and out so quickly, so
hard
that if she could have bucked she would have. She was hungry for him—something about the way she panted gave me that idea—and I longed for some of the same, to have a Master I craved, a real one, not just one in my fantasies or one I possibly couldn’t have, like Master Stephen
.
The man in question reared back, taking her nipple with him. I groaned, wide-eyed and completely lost in the visuals. I wanted to touch my tits, to give them a treat similar to what this sub’s were having, yet it wouldn’t have been the same. I wouldn’t have had that wet heat, those teeth nipping, that painful pull that threatened to put me on that knife edge it always seemed I sat on when my nipples were yanked like that.
The sub let out a long wail, closed her eyes, her teeth bared and her hair sticking to the sides of her face. Sweat drenched her as she held off, yet she’d been told to come.
“Step away from her now,” her Master said.
Master Stephen did as he’d been asked, letting her nipples go and melting back into the crowd. Then she came, and I understood why she’d denied herself an orgasm. She didn’t want to come from someone else handling her—that was saved for her Master alone. I was fascinated by her. She came immediately, a woman who couldn’t move anything but her hands, feet and head, who screamed out as if she were being tortured. But I knew better. She was loving this, loving her release, her Master pumping his hand in and out of her like she was just something to be used.
I understood how that felt, because I enjoyed it myself. I’d told someone about it once, and she’d said I gave subs a bad name, that it gave credence to the crap that flew around about BDSM in general. How it was abusive. How the message that subs liked being treated in certain ways created the wrong impression. I’d been confused—and a little upset. Wasn’t a sub allowed other emotions? If I wanted to be used, wasn’t that my right? I’d wandered away from her, into a corner where I’d thought about it all evening. I’d gone home, thought about it some more, and it hadn’t been until the early hours of the morning that I’d decided I could feel how I wanted to feel, want what I wanted without experiencing any guilt for it.
And here was another sub who apparently felt the same way.
I wasn’t alone.
I glanced across to see if I could spot Master Stephen. He’d gone to stand against the right-hand wall, his back to it, face flushed, attention on the sub as she continued to come and come and come. Going by his facial expression, I would say he was amazed by her, perhaps pleased that he’d had a hand—and mouth—in making her go off like a firecracker. Yet something else lurked on the edges of his features. Shadows, which crept in until his whole face had changed from enthrallment to sadness.
Before I could stop myself, I walked over and stood beside him, staring at the cross.
“You helped to make her come, Sir,” I said, hoping he’d answer me and that I wouldn’t be left there looking like a fool.
Maybe it had only been seconds since I’d spoken, but it seemed longer. Several uncomfortable minutes of me staring while the sub was unbound then somewhat peeled off the cross and led away. I contemplated just walking away myself—I was clearly wasting my time here—out of the door the sub and her Master had gone through, into the foyer then out into the night. Getting in my car, driving off, back to an empty flat with nothing better to do than think about everything that had happened so far tonight.
