He shoved the back of her head till her face was mere inches from the picture. She felt ashamed, like a bad dog that had just had an accident on the carpet and now its Master was pushing its nose into it.
"Please no. I can't," she pleaded.
"Look at it!" he boomed. His patience was running thin. He would not put up with her bullheaded behavior much longer.
"Yes, Master." She wearily gave in.
The picture was so close that it took a moment for her eyes to focus on the glossy image before her. She exhaled the breath she had been holding in, casting a patch of condensation over the picture. As it dissolved, a lump formed in her throat.
"You asshole, you fucking asshole! How could you make me look at this? I fucking hate you," she thought, her head spinning.
The photo was a black and white profile of a naked woman with hair down to her ass and a body so tight it resembled that of a professional dancer. Her hands were tied behind her back with what appeared to be a necktie. Her mouth was open, her eyes closed, and her head was tilted so far back it looked unnatural. She stood with one long leg propped up on an ottoman. Elle recognized the ottoman.
The first time He had invited Elle to His place she had sat, nervously picking lint off of that very ottoman while He prepared her a glass of wine. The second time she became personally familiar with that ottoman was when He had bent her over it and fucked her for the first time. Her elbows had burned the entire evening from the ugly flower print polyester chafing her skin. She had always feared she was not the first woman He had fucked on that stupid piece of furniture that Elle always thought was such a waste of space. Not that she really expected she was the only one, just hoped.
That hope was all but diminished when she saw in between the woman's legs HER Master on His knees. He too was naked and flawless. His hands were placed directly on the curve of the woman's ass. His biceps were flexed. The muscles in His arms were not done justice by the photos lack of color and shading, but nonetheless they looked strong and chiseled. His cock stood straight up as if it were enviously reaching for the pussy that His mouth had already claimed.
Elle felt like she could be sick. Jealousy erupted within her like hot lava. The image was so enticing. Elle would have given her life to be that woman. It was obvious she was a former slave of His. But for Him to be on His knees like that for her, rather then vice versa, seemed contrary to the typical role of Master and slave. She wondered if this was the woman He had once told her took it in the ass seven times in a row. Was this His way of expressing His gratitude? She knew how much He liked anal, but was she THAT good that He would temporarily forfeit His title as Master and kneel before her? The idea that this woman had that much sexual power vexed Elle.
She wanted to please him more then any other slave ever had, especially this bitch. But Elle knew she lacked experience and wasn't sure she would ever be able to live up to His high standards. This woman oozed sex and confidence out of every pore. He must have loved her. And that thought drove Elle to the edge.
"Her name is Annalisa." He stared at the picture for a few seconds, deep in thought.
"Do you want to watch me fuck her?" He continued nonchalantly.
The words stuck in the thick air between them like an insect trapped in a spider web.
He could not be serious.
She sat up with a fire in her eyes that He had never seen before.
"Fuck you!"
