MASTERED: (The Novel) (2 page)

He chuckled with delight. She turned crimson
with humiliation. After what seemed like forever, he dried his fingers; using
her sweater to do so!

Patient as she blinked and swallowed repeatedly,
he pressed his business card firmly into Missy's trembling hand. With the tip
of a single forefinger, he tilted her chin upwards until their eyes met again.

What she saw changed her world forever.

Master…

Chapter 3

Did time actually stand still?

Her trembling legs were unable to withstand her
weight for even a moment longer. Collapsing into her car, Missy asked herself
the question in all seriousness.

She felt as if she were waking from a long, yet
somehow restful, hypnotic trance.
What the hell just happened?
Disoriented, she shook her head, as if
doing so might dispel the entire incident. Not to mention the profoundly disconcerting
effect it elicited from deep within her!

The card clutched in her hand would not allow
for the comfort of self-delusion. There could be no pretending that the
incredible sequence of events was simply a phantasmagorical figment of her
imagination.

Remnants of the peculiar out-of-body sensation
persisted. Involuntarily, Missy lifted the card to her nostrils, closed her
eyes, and inhaled deeply. Her tongue explored the interior of her mouth, which
had so recently enveloped his fingers - allowing them entry to do as they
pleased.

She realized that her senses were
sub-consciously searching for the tiniest nuance of
him.
Clearly, there was but one logical conclusion. She had
completely lost her mind! Things of this nature did not happen. If they did, they
certainly didn't happen to
her
.
Particularly not in broad daylight in the parking lot of a grocery store that
she frequented almost daily.

Friends and neighbors might easily have
witnessed the surreal scene of her standing quietly, eagerly suckling on some
strange man’s hand!

She felt her cheeks burn first with humiliation,
followed closely by anger. Missy had been responsible for her own survival from
an age when most girls’ primary concern was which gown to wear to junior prom.

This was not her first rodeo! Who did this guy
think he was? Moreover, who did he think
she
was?

Submissive…

Missy determined then and there that she had no
intention of showing up at the address etched into the card.
The
same card that was still clenched possessively in her moist palm.
She
decided to dispose of it without delay.

The very moment she arrived home.

Feeling as if she’d regained some semblance of
control, Missy inserted the keys into the ignition and started the engine. It
was then that her eyes fell to the clock, and a different sort of panic set in.

Chapter 4

Of course, time had not stood still.

In fact, it was so late that Missy immediately
began to worry about her son.
Why hadn't Christopher texted by now?
Sixteen years old with the appetite of two men and a sixteen year old boy, she
knew he'd be hungrier than a bear.

Looking in several nonsensical nooks and
crannies, she eventually located her phone. It was exactly where it belonged;
in the side pocket of her over-sized purse. She was shocked to see that not
only had her son texted, he'd done so three times
!
I must not have heard it
over the ringing in my ears.

Guiltily, she quickly texted him to not worry;
she was on her way, dinner in hand. Slipping the car into gear, Missy was home
in less than five minutes. Glancing around, she exhaled with relief, hugging
her boy a fraction longer and tighter than usual.

Home, sweet home.

As Christopher wriggled from her unusually tight
clutches, Missy's short-lived relief evaporated.

Deep within her soul, she could no longer deny
the truth. She may not understand every deviant facet, but the subtle nuances
were undeniable. She knew enough to realize that the life she struggled so hard
to create - was today inexorably altered. A single encounter with a complete
stranger had turned it irrevocably upside down.

Her intrinsic desire to please him forced Missy
to confront a highly sensitive area of her psyche. An area which, previously,
was ignored, denied, and snubbed. She'd striven a lifetime, consciously or
unconsciously - to blur and obscure it. She believed it buried deeply enough as
to be untouchable by anyone.
Primarily herself.

She was mistaken. The dam was breached, and she
hadn't enough fingers to hold back the inevitable deluge. Forbidden secrets
were spilling freely into her conscious mind, confirming what she always
suspected.

Submissive...

She didn't belong here. She never really did.

Refusing to allow such disturbing thoughts a
foothold in her already distressed mind, Missy got down to the business at
hand. She kicked off her heels and absently went about the soothingly familiar
machinations of preparing dinner. Christopher disappeared into his bedroom,
facetiously referred to as 'The Cave'.

Deep, dark, and often dank, the cave is filled
to overflowing. From conception it seemed
,
technology
was Christopher's 'thing'. He could happily spend days locked away with his
computer, to the exclusion of all else. That is, if she allowed it. Regularly Missy
would drag her son, kicking and screaming, outside and into the light of day.
She would teasingly point out objects of interest which might otherwise have
remained foreign.

Objects such as flowers.
Trees.
Clouds.

 
It made
little impression, however.
They both knew it
was only a matter of time before Mr. B. Gates would be divvying up office space
with her brilliant son.

As she turned to call him to the dinner table,
her eyes were drawn to the crumpled, sweat-stained business card. From its
lofty place atop the counter, it seemed to mock her. Somehow, it still hadn’t
made it into the trash bin, in spite of her promise to herself. Missy felt the
prickly heat of shame engulf her.

Instantly, she was back in that place where time
had stood still. The place where he gazed down upon her lowered head and
pressed his card into her sweaty fist. In her mind, his compelling voice
informed her again of the time she was 'expected'. She shivered, recalling his
‘suggestion’ that she not be late!

Yes, she felt the heat of shame.
And
of indignation.
But, Missy also felt another kind of heat. There was no mistaking the throbbing
heat of desire. She acknowledged for the first time that her pussy was sopping
wet. The same went for her panties; and they weren’t
just
wet.

Missy was stunned by the realization that she
was blatantly
pulsating
between
her legs. She was swollen, sensitive, and aching with a need the likes of which
she’d never experienced. That is; other than in her darkest fantasies.

The portent of this struck her so clearly; it
robbed her of what little breath remained in her lungs. Her legs might have
given out beneath her if it weren’t for the kitchen counter. Thankful for its
proximity, she leaned her meager weight against it.

This can't be happening!
She had meticulously safeguarded against it. And yet,
as much as she may have wished it otherwise, there was no escaping the obvious.
His words vibrated in her mind in perfect harmony with her convulsing pussy.

Submissive...

Suddenly, Christopher burst from the cave and
straight into the kitchen, growling and salivating like the starving bear he
resembled. Dragging her attention back to the present, she quickly shook off
her dazed reverie.

Not quickly enough. He stopped dead in his bear
tracks when he saw the stricken look on her face. "What's wrong,
mom?"

Missy smiled reassuringly at her beautiful son.
"Nothing at all baby. Other than I forgot to mention that I have a date
tonight. I'm sorry honey, but you'll have to eat without me."
 
She set out a plate of cheeseburgers and a pitcher
of lemonade, his favorite meal. He no longer bothered to debate the
accompanying broccoli. Resignedly, he munched the detested greenery.
 

Mouth full, Christopher peppered his mother with
questions about her ‘date’. Lacking acceptable answers, Missy sidestepped the
inquisition as best she could with benign generalities. Glancing once more at
the clock, she kissed the top of his head and dashed from the kitchen. The last
thing she saw was the smile that lit up her son's face.

Chapter 5

While Missy may have preferred her breasts a cup
size, or two, larger; the truth was they fit her body perfectly. What stood
out, quite literally, were her thick, infuriatingly overly-sensitive nipples.
Catching a glimpse of her profile in the full-length mirror, Missy turned to
view herself with newly-opened eyes.

The image gazing intently back at her was a
petite five foot three, with a lean, athletic build. She was still dressed
head-to-toe in black. Black and unadorned was the prescribed dress code at
Boutique
Ebony&Ivory
; the upscale boutique where
she worked.

Even so, her nipples were clearly delineated,
poking through both bra and loose fitting shirt. Secretly, Missy wondered if
other women's nipples were as hyper-sensitive as her own. She hoped not for
their sake.

It would require a complete lack of
self-awareness on her part to not grasp that men were attracted to her. From
the time she was a flat-chested tom-boy, the primary adjective used to describe
her was 'sexy'. While she didn't necessarily understand it, her concern was not
the men’s excessive interest in her. Her concern lay with her utter lack of
interest in them.

Probing her translucent hazel eyes in the
mirror, she confessed to herself that she’d always known the true genesis of
her apathy towards men. She thought she’d suppressed it effectively.

She was wrong.

She could barely recall the last time she
accepted a date. Not that the surreal events of this afternoon could be
construed in any way, shape, or form as being asked out on a date. Her
acceptance was never any part of the equation. She had been summoned, pure and
simple. There appeared to be no question as to her timely arrival. Somehow, it
was a given.

Submissive...

"Date, my ass!"
Missy spat the words aloud. Still, she climbed
unsteadily out of her work clothes and peeled off her sodden panties. Standing
nude in the doorway of her closet, she assessed her limited wardrobe choices,
finding them sorely lacking. She very much yearned to take a long, hot bath,
but knew it was impossible under the stringent time constraints.

Distracted by the hunger her body was
shamelessly emitting, she didn't pause to wonder what she might be getting herself
into.

She didn't have to. Subconsciously, she already
knew the answer to that treacherous question. She knew the instant she felt the
magnetic pull of that enigmatic man. A man she was clearly incapable of
defending against. His eyes had imprisoned her, irrevocably binding her to him
and testifying to her nature
and
to
her future.

 
The term
‘soul-mate’ sprang to mind, but didn’t quite fit. Soul-
Master
seemed a far more accurate description.

 
She
wasn’t capable of processing this data at the time due to the unfortunate
malfunctioning of her good and common sense. However, there’d been plenty of
time to process it since. And yet, here she stood, wondering what she might
wear this evening to please him.

Please him?
She refused to dwell on
where those words might have originated. Instead, she distracted herself by
donning a cute floral skirt that came to rest modestly just a few inches above
her knees. She added a matching midnight blue tank and the sexiest heels she
owned.
And, oh yes; dry panties as well.

After brushing her thick auburn hair, applying a
dab of make-up and a hint of cologne, Missy wavered for only a moment. With a
deep breath, she scooped up the rumpled business card that, somehow, never came
anywhere close to the garbage can.

Armed with the surety that before today, she
enjoyed a fairly firm grip on reality; Missy balked. Although it wasn't
possible, the card seemed to be
pulsating
in her palm. She could have sworn to it.

Master…

If earlier Missy wasn’t able to grasp that she was
standing at a critical crossroads, she was now fully cognizant of the fact. She
was also keenly aware that, already, it was too late to turn back.