In the manner of Gregory Maguire, who provided us with a version of the childhood standard The Wizard of Oz through the eyes of the "wicked" witch, I have re-written my favorite BDSM story, Both Master and Slave, written by Martin Sharpe (published in 2001 by Silver Moon Books in Great Britain), from the point of view of the submissive, rather than the Master, who was Mr. Sharpe's narrator. I hope that fans of the original book will accept my version for the tribute that it is meant to be.
*
It was a Wednesday, and I always got home before Master on Wednesdays. I was in an outfit of my own choosing: a light, floaty cream cotton dress by Whistles, sleeveless, with a scoop neck. I was wearing strappy cream leather sandals with flat heels and my bare legs showed just a hint of bruising from a session we'd had five days earlier. Screwing up my courage, and taking a deep breath, I met Master just inside his front door.
"Don't say a word," I began, counting on Master' curiosity for his compliance with my request. I led Master into the centre of the room, knelt, undid his flies and sucked Master off. I did a good job of it too, with none of the clumsiness I'd shown at the start of our affair, and with lots of variety. When my mouth was full of cock, I said thickly, "I want you to know that I love you very much." Then I forced myself forward again and again, deep throating Master to a stunning orgasm, the muscular convulsions as I swallowed Master's sperm seeming to intensify Master's own spasms.
Then I settled back on my heels and smiled up at Master. "Sorry to be bossy," I said, "but I've got a big favour to ask, and I wanted you to have a clear head. If your mind is clouded by dirty thoughts, you might agree to something you'll regret later."
"I'm more than satisfied for the time being," Master responded, "now, what do you want?"
"Sit down," I directed Master, a bit nervous about pushing my limits, but committed to follow through now that I'd started. "I'll get you a drink, and we can talk."
Master slumped into the sofa, but sat up with interest on his face when I returned with a glass of beer. "I don't know how to put this," I began awkwardly.
"I'm only your master when it comes to sex," Master told me. "You can say anything you like to me."
"Thank you," I said with feeling. I paused awkwardly. "The thing is, I've got no right to ask you this."
"Ask anyway," Master instructed. "Say what's on your mind."
"The thing is," I began again as Master took a sip of beer. "I want to talk to you about Sally. You're such a good man, I think you'll understand."
"Who's Sally?" Master asked.
"Sally Watson. I was at school with her, and we both went to the same university. After many of our contemporaries got married, we became even closer. Until I met you, Sally was my best friend in the whole world. We've never missed sending birthday and Christmas cards, even when Sally went out to Japan," I explained.
"What was Sally doing out there?" Master asked.
"Teaching English. Somehow, things worked out for her, though. The economy has made things rough for a lot of people; many arts students graduating when we did found they couldn't get decent work, and a few years later they found themselves competing with a new batch of graduates for a limited number of jobs." I frowned, realizing I was losing track of my goal in explaining all this to Master. "Anyway, after we left university, Sally knocked about doing silly temping jobs, and then Sally found out about this scheme for sending graduates out to Japan to teach English. Everything seemed to go all right there for a while, but, well, do you know what's been happening in Japan?"
Master nodded. It was part of his job to follow international markets. "You're saying they made Sally redundant?"
"Worse than that," replied I. "Somebody persuaded Sally that the Japanese stock market couldn't possibly fall any lower, and Sally invested all her savings, and then it fell again. Sally has lost everything. Sally is a good person -- pretty and intelligent. I like Sally a lot, and I hate what's happening to her; I hate to see Sally living like that."
"Does Sally need a ticket home?" Master asked, trying to get to the point where I told him what I - and Sally - needed from him.
I shook my head. "She's in London. However, she's staying in this horrible boarding house in Bayswater, and it still seems impossible for Sally to find decent work. Sally's got no family any more - only me, in fact. Could you, would you, let Sally stay here for a bit? Just a few months, until Sally gets settled?"
"I wouldn't let your best friend go homeless, Rebecca," Master reassured me. "But how could we have a house guest for more than a couple of days? How could I tie you up and fuck you when there was someone else in the flat? What would Sally think if she heard you screaming or saw tears in your eyes?"
"We've talked all that through," I replied. "We don't have secrets. Sally got very interested in what was happening to me. About us, I mean. At first, I thought Sally might tease me because I've always been more of a feminist than her, but Sally was intrigued. That's why I wanted your mind clear when you made your decision." I gave a little smile. "You see, Sally is quite happy for you to beat and fuck both of us."
Master took a deep breath. "Has Sally been beaten before?"
"No, but Sally is curious," I explained. "And I told her how caring you are. What a nice man you are."
"So what you're saying is, I get a second slave and I don't have to find another Β£200,000?" Master asked.