My Master

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When Sable is sold as a sex slave to her new master she needs to find out what kind of a person he is, both as a man and as a lover. What kind of man is her new master? Sable may have got more than she bargained for when her master comes in to see her, but he's not alone. How will she manage to work around the new social nuances of her masters home?

Erotica / Fantasy
4.6 32 reviews
Age Rating:

Home Sweet Home

The man in the drivers seat of this vehemently expensive car I’ve been ordered to sit in scares me. He’s been focused on the road with a glare on his face ever since he started driving. His words keep ringing in my ears, making me question what kind of house I’m going to. “You are to call me Master. Never speak unless I give you explicit permission, and only answer my questions, nothing more, nothing less.” I was too stunned at first to react, snapping back at him shortly after, “there’s no way I would ever call you master! Not even in the middle of a burning hot inferno!” He grew rage in that moment, fiery red rage, resulting in the mood he’s in now. Words stung at his backlash, “You are nothing but a winch who was sold like a dog up on that platform! You’re an object, I bought you, you are a property of mine and I demand you call me Master because that’s what I am to you!”

Flashbacks keep hitting as I look out the window, trying to avoid his attention. In my home I was physically attacked and drug down... I thought I was scared then, but I had no idea what was to come. The kidnapping of a claustrophobic meltdown; a black bag tied over my head, I was thrown into the back of a van. I became a claustrophobic meltdown in that van. The walls closing in around me, my vision was taken away, the rattling of my surroundings so constant that I feared someone could be right next to me and I would never know. Ropes tying my arms together behind my back I felt vulnerable. My equilibrium confused I panicked until I screamed, losing my mind to an enemy I can’t see. My screaming only stopped when someone or something hit me in the head. My next memory flashed to when I woke up, head pounding. Cuffs of barbed silver forced on my wrists, breaking barbs beneath the skin. My wolf has been absent since then. Loneliness is eating at me without her but I’m afraid I don’t have time to be anything but strong right now. Flashbacks are eating my subconscious.

The most vivid consumptions of my mind are from my time on the auctioneers platform. Forced to stand on display for a group of rowdy, perverted men, I wasn’t allowed the freedom to move on my own. Silver cuffs holding my wrists, a man held my upper arm, digging fingers in so hard they bruised. A hand gripped my jaw forcing me to make eye contact with these men, some with wolves just below the surface, some whose skin side had become the wolf. All of them, wolf or skin, had become tainted. A heavy blackness seemed present in that crowd, jeering and cheering for all the wrong reasons. They were excited at my reluctance to look at them, cheering and yelling profanities as though this were a joke and I was the butt of it. Their profanities and excitement grew in parallel to my embarrassment. My greatest embarrassment was when they forced me to show them my bum. Turning my back to them, the man handling me used my arm as leverage, bending me over his knee. He was showing the men a better view of what it would look like if they took me from behind. I looked at the ground in shame. No longer valued as an individual, I am just an animal to these men. Grabbing my hair, he pulls it up along with my face. Turning himself on his knee I was forced to face the crowd of devils, showing them my face and cleavage, looking full as it tried to pop out of my shirt. Embarrassment consuming me, emanating as I continue looking out the car window. My cheeks reddening and hot, I know he can smell my embarrassment. There’s no way he can’t smell it, but I can’t, not until my wolf can come out of her purgatory.

My mind wanders back to the man who demanded I call him master.

Risking a glance his direction I see he’s grinding his jaw, black eyes showing his wolf below the surface.

I need to get away from him. Speeding up the car, he passes the speed limit, passing the car next to us, excelling even faster past the next. I’m pushed back in my seat, the speedometer continues to rise. I glance from the gauge to the road, back to the gauge again. It only keeps rising. I’m frozen in my spot, fear paralyzing me, taking my body hostage. A bubbling sensation forms in the pit of my stomach. The speed of blood spikes though my system, pooling it’s heat in my face, my stomach, the core of my body touching the seat. I close my eyes and pray I don’t smell of arousal. I could, but this is anything but. This is terrifying. He must smell that too. Still he speeds up and I’m now so petrified I can’t focus on anything but my own body and wondering why he’s trying to kill us. I’m so afraid to move I’m pressing my head into my seat, trying to become one with it so that when we crash I might survive.

The car slows. I can feel the sway of my body as my blood tries keeping the same momentum it had before. Slowing even more I feel the pull of curves in the road. I can’t see where we are going because my eyes are still shut, my body still thinks we’re in danger. I desperately reach out to my wolf. No response. I could use the emotional backup at the very least right now. More curves and turns and I’m focusing on trying to breathe. A smooth stop and a steady go has me thinking I can feel my arms again. I still don’t want to open my eyes, but my breaths are coming easier. Slowly, around more curves there is a sudden stop before I feel his hand on my thigh, “Sable, you need to get out of the car.” With a squeeze he lets go of my thigh and I hear his door shut. I’m alone for one precious moment before I hear my door open. A harsh comment, “open your eyes” has me wanting to listen but terrified to. My blood is still slowing, gravity not centered within me. I try opening my eyes but paralysis still has its hold on me.

I feel two fingers press into what’s between my legs, his breath felt on the side of my face, in my ear, “if you don’t open your eyes and get out of this car I will have my way with your body, right here, right now. Got it.” My eyes open before the last words have finished leaving his mouth. He smirks, showing perfectly white teeth and the most attractive fangs I’ve seen in my life. Removing his fingers from me, I become acutely aware that I’m breathing heavy. When did I start doing that?

Embarrassment sets in, warming my face and... swallowing down more embarrassment. The place his fingers were just at is warm with a growing heat. I feel lubrication build up as I focus on the feeling. He holds his hand in front of my face for me to take. Looking at him, he smirks again, eyes twinkling in an all knowing, arrogant sort of way. I can’t tear my gaze away from him. He has some strands of black hair in his face, highlighting the shape of his eyes, the slope of his cheek bone. For the first time I can see that he’s devilishly handsome. Terrible, but handsome.

I hesitate, reaching out my hand to put it in his, wrist prickling with the pain that only silver can bring. I want to cry, I want to scream, but I grit my teeth together and try to focus on my breathing. “When we get inside I’ll have someone dig those splinters out. Now up!” He pulls my hand, forcing the rest of me out of the seat. My wrist feels as if it’s burning in half, yanked on harshly. I cry out in pain, stumbling into him because I was trying to move one way and he was trying move me another. Can he please just get his hands off of me so I can move without hurting myself?

His hands hold me stable for a moment. His voice resounding in my ear, deep and low, “what did I tell you about speaking without permission?” Something in me snaps. I want to kill him. I just don’t have the wolf to do it right now. Slowly looking up, I wear a glare that should be killing him. My eyes focus in on his throat, the pulse of life, where my jaws should be crushing him like an insect into the ground.

As a cobra strikes, I find his teeth in my lower lip. Fangs drawing blood along with his other teeth. I feel like my lip is in a vice. A fanged, jaw shaped vice. Tears flow down my face without my consent. He holds himself there as I begin to cry vocally. He doesn’t loosen his hold even a fraction. Time is moving agonizingly slow as my lip grows hot, my cries building with the pain. I begin to bawl with streams of tears coating my face, blood and saliva dripping down my lip, my chin, down my neck and onto my shirt. I think my lip is already swelling, yet he continues to hold it. I cry on.

He lets go, stroking my hair as he tells me “shhh” in a calming voice. I cry on. He continues to stroke my hair, pushing my head into his chest. I shake, pulling my head back to look at his chest with eyes unfocused. He strokes, calming me with his voice “shhh” repeatedly. Whispering, “breathe,” his strokes continue to gently nudge me into his chest.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and rest my head on him, giving in to his insistence that that’s where my head belongs. I am exhausted. A delicate nibble on the top of my ear using teeth that mean no harm greet me before he takes his teeth away. He stops his shhhing and gently rubs my head for a while. I stay like that, focusing on my breathing, coming down from my state of anxiety until I can hear the beat of his heart in his chest. Pulling me away to his arms length he narrows his eyes at me. “You can’t look at your master that way unless you want to be punished.” I can’t help the raise in my voice, “but I never said anything! And you” “You did!” He is glaring at me now, not giving me a chance to speak. “You yelled out and said dammit. You’re damn lucky I caught you or you would have fallen and had to catch yourself with that injured wrist. You are not to talk unless spoken to and you are not to look at me like that or you will get punished.” He glares at me harder. “I’m going to make this easy for you. If you make so much as one peep without my consent you will get my punishment.” He grabs a hold of my chin with his index finger and thumb, making me look him dead in the face. “If you are good and follow all my orders I will give you indulgences you will never get elsewhere.” He licks his lips. “understand?” All I can do is nod my head while I let his words sink in.

As I nod my eyes are drawn to his dress shirt which is now stained in my blood. He takes his hands off of me. “Good. Now we go inside and I’ll show you to your room.” He turns and walks, exuding confidence even with his back turned to me. He doesn’t seem bothered to be covered in blood. I follow, looking at the grounds as we go. His yard, a vast expanse of freshly cut grass with perfectly shaped hedges leading down to what looks like the entrance of a hedge maze. There is a fountain and flowers peeking through the entrance, with what looks like a bench swing near the fountain but I can’t be sure. Past the maze is a field with a forest on the other side. That’s where I want to be.

Following, I look at his back, shirt pulling with the movement of muscles underneath. He can’t hide that he’s a monster lurking beneath that deceptively beautiful exterior. We are nearing the doors of the manor. I look back at the forest, temptation brimming in my mind. Looking to his back, I judge him. The forest... my freedom, his back, the restraints are tightening from the veiled prison he is leading me to. The face of the manor is massive, ornate, an overbearing demonstration of his wealth. The forest, humble in its simplicity. I look at his back one more time before I turn on my heel and run.

There is no looking back. I keep my eyes focused on the forest. This isn’t a marathon. This is a sprint for freedom.

Running as fast as I can I try to block out everything but the singular thought of reaching the forest. That was a mistake.

I wasn’t ready for it when he hit me full on with his body. I stumble, going down right on top of my arm which makes an audible cracking sound. His body falls on top of me, hard and heavy. He shuffles around on me quickly, rolling me over and pinning my arms down next to my head. I’m in so much pain I can’t make a sound. It’s written all over my face and at this moment I don’t care how weak I come off. His eyes shift from my face to my arm and he removes his hand, tucking his teeth back in his mouth.

His jaw sets, face growing hard, eyes black again. I didn’t even notice what color they were before. I only notice them when they are black. I expect him to yell at me but he doesn’t. He gets off of me, grabbing me by my other arm and dragging me across his yard and into the manor. My arm throbs and I know my face still holds my pain outward for others to see.

He drags me through the doors, past a maid, up a grande staircase, through some hallways before stopping to open a door. Without missing a beat he pushes me into the room, almost making me fall with the force of it. He grabs onto both sides of the doorway hard with his hands and through clenched teeth tells me, “I will deal with you later” before he slams the door, leaving me feeling shook.

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Alpana Daftardar: It’s a good story showing us how preconceived notions about people can be wrong.

Alisha Troop: Hot hot 🔥🔥🔥😍🔥🔥😍

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